Prince of Hell
by BrowneyedShamer
Summary: Trouble follows those who lead exciting lives but the Prince of Wrath wants only to run-away from his past. Hoping to find a new heir for the throne he doesn't want, the Prince finds the Holmes brothers. All would be well if the Celestial heir hadn't shown up and staked a claim on one of them. How do you go about loving one brother and making the other your successor?
1. Chapter 1

This will be interesting, I love supernatural stories and thought I' finally submit my own! Ch.2 is already writen but after than I have no set updates!

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**-‡-****Prince of Hell-****‡-**

**Chapter One**

In the distance screams echoed in the darkness. The smell of blood lingering in the hot stale air. Men in women shrouded in black and clad in tight leather and red, gathered around a raised dais that held their monarchs above them. A line had formed in the throne room of poor unfortunate souls hoping to beg for their freedom.

The Prince of Hell looked out across the throne room his right hand dangling down to lazily scratch Gladstone's ears, who was by far the laziest animal John had ever know. The Hell Hound never so much as barked at another person much less lift his head from his paws to even regard anyone. Despite his lacking ferociousness John loved that dog. To John's left sat his parents and at the far end his older sister, smiling like the Cheshire cat at an elderly man in gray rags in front of the dais of thrones, begged for redemption. John frowned deeply.

"Please your Darkness forgive my sins."

John couldn't stop the slow grin that betrayed his mirth at the man's pleas. He covered the smile with his left hand. It wasn't that the ratty man begging for his life was funny, it was the fact that everyone begged for the something, and in all time the Dark lord had never granted such boon so it amused John that the humans still insisted on begging.

John averted his eyes as his father brook out into a wide smile and pointed his finger. A streak of darkness snaked out and enveloped the poor soul, who burst into flames. The man screamed for a few second before the black flames consumed him and he disappeared into the air, a faint trail of smoke left in his absence. The Dark Lord, George Watson, turned to his eldest son.

"You will judge the next one."

John nodded his face stone cold and unmoving but inside he was squirming and objecting. He didn't want to judge others, he was happier leading Hells army and if he was honest with himself he was going one hell of a job, pun intended. Never in any century had the army concurred so much with so little bloodshed, the called him the immovable force. In the last battle John had gotten his leg crushed and developed a slight limp. He took to walking with an ornate black cane with a silver top, it was cleverly disguised as a sword, ten times stronger that steel and deadly to all demonic creatures. Moving his hand from his mouth, John reached beside him and gripped his cane.

"Next." The firey blonde called out in a commanding tone.

His guard's men, wearing his insignia of a red lion with wings tearing the head off an enemy, dragged in a woman. They threw her to the ground in front of the throne; all the courtiers craning their necks to get a better view of the women. She, unlike all the other beggars, was naked and not shrouded in filth. Her long blond hair was in ringlets down to her waist. From the corner of his eyes, John saw his sister, Harry, lean forward licking her lips. John's stomach churned at the lust in Harry's eyes. The last girl who'd gotten that look was currently sitting at Harry's feet chained to the floor by a collar around her neck. Other than a thin cloth, Clara was bare to the world and Harry loved to parade her pet around. Shaking his head John leaned forward his is only attempt to appear intimidating. The women's bright blue eyes locked on his and she trembled.

"What has brought you here?" John asked the first mandatory question.

The blonde women remained on the floor but looked up with determined eyes. "I died."

John smiled with actual pleasure at her spitfire answer. "What is your name?"

"Mary." She answered with trepidation.

"What sins have you to pay for?" John asked the next mandatory question.

May licked her dry lips and hugged her body, hiding her small plump breasts. The action made her seem innocent and small. "I have many." She whispered sadly.

In John's mind eye red scroll print ran over her smooth white skin, writing her sin into her skin. Her lesser crimes written on her outer extremities and worse crimes inscribed on her face and chest. He was slightly taken back at the multitude of blood writing on the women. John's eye brows flew up in surprise at her admission. Not many humans ever freely admitted their wrong-doings. It took a lot of courage on their part. With a growing respect for the broken women John continued forward with his questions.

"How do you plead?"

"Guilty." Mary said as she hung her head.

"How are you prepared to pay for your sins?"

Mary's head snapped up, an inner fire burning in her eyes. "Whatever it takes."

Harry giggled to John's left as his father nodded, it was impressive when a human wished to actually atone for their sins and the Underworld looked upon that favorably. Just because they took the forsaken of society didn't mean they didn't have standard. John grabbed the scruff of Gladstone's neck, hating himself for the next words that were about to come from his mouth but having no other choice then to voice them.

"You may choose your 'tormentor' or would you prefer to beg for mercy?"

Mary didn't hesitate, she pointed straight at John. "I'll take you over anyone else in this room."

John sighed happily, no one ever chose him, preferring to pick Harry or his mother. He assumed it was because they looked small and frail with beautiful faces, seemingly kind, but in truth they were ruthless. The courtiers shuffled in their seats to the side, it was the first for a victim to ever willingly pick John. Most just choose to beg and then got sent off into a mindless torment. John motioned Mary forward. She stood up, still hugging her naked body and walked forward on shaky legs, falling in front of his golden seat. In a swift motion, John unsheathed his blade and sliced her slender neck. Drawing a perfect circle of blood. Taking his right hand off Gladstone's neck, John reached out and traced the blood around her pale skin, coming to the center of her throat he drew his finger away, a trail of blood suspended in the air, following his movement as he drew a circle on his own wrist with her blood. The blood solidified leaving Mary blood chained to John. The blood on her throat dried back, appearing as if a black choker, the blood tie between them disappeared leaving a similar black band on John's left arm.

"Sit here Mary." John indicated a spot to his left in front of his chair on the first step. Gracefully Mary sat down, calm and docile, John handed her his cane and she gently took it, holding the item like a sacred artifact.

John's personal guards walked out of the room once more and returned with another victim. Already tired of judgment but unwilling to let his parents much less his ruthless sister at the poor souls John continued on, Mary and Gladstone sitting loyally at his feet.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Five hours later and forty eight judgments, John was bone tired. His parents had retired with in the first hour, Harry leaving with Clara after two and the courtier after three. Leaving him and Mary, not that he minded it was much less intimidating. Once everyone had left the throne room. John had gotten up from his seat and moved to his father's chair, motioning for Mary to take a seat next to him, still clutching his cane. At first she was hesitant but after the deceased stopped panicking and seemed to calm down at the sight of the two blondes pleasantly sitting in front of them, she relaxed. John even allowed her to decided fair atonements for a few of the lesser crimes. They retired for the night in his large chambers that weren't heavily furnished or decorated. He wasn't the kind to bask in the glory of royalty and choose simple over elegant.

"I won't keep your bed warm." Mary squeaked out.

John shrugged out of his heavy black robes and tossed his shoes off. He turned and raised an eyebrow at the women before he saw her eyes nervously flicker to his bed and he got her hint. His face lit up before he laughed heartily. "Oh well fear not, I'm…you're not my type." John stated plainly.

Mary looked equally as confused before she caught John's meaning and visibly relaxed. "I see." She tugged at the ribbon around her throat.

John pulled off his red shirt, leaving only his black pants. "You can sleep in my bed or I can find you someplace else. And by sleep I mean just that."

"Oh I know that I just-..." Her light voice trailed off as she motioned to her naked body.

John frowned before flying to his dresser and ruffling through. "I'm terribly sorry, how rude of me. It's been a while since I've had guests." He pulled out a long shirt and handed it to Mary who gratefully pulled in on and snuggled into his large bed covered in black sheets. Gladstone who had followed them into the room jumped up on the bed and curled around Mary's feet. John got in on the other side, careful to make sure there was space between the two and clapped his hands, the lights instantly going out.

They shuffled around awkwardly before find comfortable places. John was just about in the cusp of sleep before Mary started talking. "Where am I?"

John turned on his side to face her. "Hell." She remained silent wanting more information. John sighed and ran a hand through his short black hair. "You committed a crime that sent you to this kingdom in Hell to which you will stay here until you pay your dues and can move on."

"Where?"

"I wouldn't know, I'm never going there." John said. When he was younger he was bitter at his father that He had to stay in Hell and would never have the ability to move past purgatory. "Technically calling this Hell isn't correct this is purgatory, where you pay for all your crimes and sins before moving on again. Don't ask I don't know."

"You said three kingdoms?" Mary asked after another silence.

"Yes. Gluttony and sloth are monitored by the Andersons while Lust, Vainglory and Greed are the Moriarty's. You are currently in Wrath, Envy, Acadia and Pride ruled by the mighty Watsons" John said.

Mary frowned in the darkness, scooting closer to the Prince of Hell she was finding wasn't all that scary just a bit out of touch. "Why does your family have four while the others have less?"

John rubbed his face. "The Watson's aren't crazy like the Moriarty's and the Anderson's are all useless."

Mary chuckled, fingering the silky black sheets. "One more question."

John laughed. "Ok, but we have the rest of forever, you know."

Mary thought that the idea of spending eternity in Hell would have frightened her or brought her to tears but the thought only brought a smile. John would make it bearable. "If you're-…"

"Gay." He finished, not at all ashamed.

"Right, umm and you're a prince does that mean you'll-…."

"Marry another Prince. Yes well in theory, Harry also likes the same sex so that is the general idea, but I hate the other Princes; you'll see they're both terrible."

Mary nodded settling down to sleep before another question popped into her head and nagged at her mind. "One more?"

John sighed loudly. "Yes?"

"What does a Prince of Hell do?"

"I concur the world." John stated, before laughing at her shocked silence. "No I am the general of our army and make sure the onther families stay in line and don't try to take what isn't there's. Think of me like the police of the underworld."

"And you also fix people like a Doctor?"

John snorted but reached out to pat her head. "That's sounds a lot less stressful then fighting daemons and crazy Princes on a daily basis."

"Then perhaps you should try it."

"I think I just might." John said as his voice trailed off and he fell asleep.

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><p>Ok so love it? Hate it? I'd love to know!<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Yeahhhhhh! I totally feel John is a BAMF! 139hits in a day in a half, that's a record so thanks!

**-‡-****Prince of Hell-****‡-**

**Chapter Two**

Mary looked out across the courtroom, her sharp blue eyes pinning the courtiers on spot; their red and yellow demonic eyes averting under her scrutiny. She smiled proudly that only after a few years she had gained enough respect in Hell to have eyes averted at her presence. She'd even become a member of the family, unlike Clara who was still just a pet in Harry's eyes. Mary was clad in the same tight leather that was the height of fashion at the moment which almost everyone else wore. Gladstone laid ragdoll at her feet as she was perched proudly in John's chair. He'd rather play soldier then attend his responsibilities at court. Hence the current problems the court was facing.

"Mary call John this is urgent." Commanded Sasha, the Queen of Hell.

Mary touched the ribbon around her neck that forever connected her to John. Closing her mind she reached across their blood bond and pulled. He felt her need and she knew he was coming. "He's on his way."

Sasha sighed and leaned back in her chair, surveying the man in the middle of the throne room holding a bunch of red roses lethargically dripping blood onto the dark marble floor. The man was dead and petrified in the kneeling position. The image was creepy and bazar. Mary wasn't sure if it was a disturbing love declaring or death threat. Either way John needed to come. The Prince got as many death threats as he did proposals, all of which he turned away and dismissed. It was fitting that he was the most hated and loved man in the entire underworld.

The Throne room doors burst open and John stormed in, his red cape flowing behind him like a crimson flag of death and his dark blue eyes flashing around. He stopped and looked at the stature, which was clearly once a human warrior of the olden ages. John silently circled around, scrunching his nose at the flowers. "What is this?"

"It was here when we arrived for judgment, no one saw anyone leave." George stated.

"I had nothing to do with this." John defended

"Yes but you are known as the Immovable Force and the Bloody Rose." George said, waving his hands at the dripping flowers and stone soldier.

John snarled at his father, unsheathing his blade from the cane he still carried and furiously sliced at the stone man. The stone crumbling under his sword and erupted into dust, he re-sheathed his blade with a smirk. The flowers flew from the stone hands and flopped upon the polished floors with a squish. Mary wrinkled her nose at the sound and gagged into her hands. A terrible stench flowed from the flowers that now sat in a puddle of blood by the rubble. The many courtiers bathed in their own darkness fled away from the area. Their demonic personas trembling and fading around the edges.

"Somebody loves your work John." Harry said with a wide smile.

John turned his nose up at his sister, hating that he even shared DNA with her. Harry's own blonde hair was cut as short as his, her more angular face was the only difference between the siblings. He refused to engage her in a fight, which he knew she was itching for. Harry had an unquenchable lust for bloodshed. George frowned at his children, before sighing. He expected so much from them, especially John, who he hoped to be his successor, if he could just get off the battle field long enough to be in court and learn the rules.

"John, find the culprit."

"I will sir." He stated, ready to turn on his heels and leave. His fingers shook to hold his sword again and ride into battle with the Moriarty's, who although where all unquestionably insane but made brilliant battle companions. John felt powerless in the throne room. He knew his kinder nature was an enigma to his father but the only way he felt he proved his worth was on the field concurring in the name of the Watsons. Mary was a great judger, even for a past sinner. John felt assured she could do his job. In all honesty it hurt John to send the humans into torture and madness, a feeling he'd never admit to. That was a severe weakness and in Hell weaknesses got you killed, or worse enslaved to another.

"John!" George called. John stopped mid-step and turned around with a fake smile on his lips.

"Yes, what can I do for you my liege?"

George stood up from his throne, holding his arm out for his wife who lovingly took it. It was amazing that Sasha and George actually loved and respected each other. Respect is Hell was held in higher standards then love. The King and Queen walked down the dais. "You are a Prince of Hell and the heir to the Watson legacy, you will judge for the near-seeable future." George and Sasha walked out of the throne room, the many courtiers following behind the royal couple, probably to lunch or a death game.

"Clean this mess up." John barked out, his numerous guards, stationed around the circular throne room, jumping to oblige his command. They easily swept up the stone man but hesitated over the bloody flowers; even in Hell the citizens had superstitions. John waved them on, allowing the disturbing bouquet to accumulate blood on the floor. It might freak out the sinners into telling the truth.

Harry leaned back in her chair, petting Clara's head, who's once lively brown eyes were blank of all emotion. John watched Harry stroke Clara's long brown hair with clear disgust before rapping his cane against the floor twice, signaling for the next trial. Climbing to sit in his father's chair, grateful there was an empty seat between him and Harry. John carefully leaned his cane against his mother's throne in reach at all times. The guards brought in a man, his eye covered by a ratty cloth.

"Where's your newest pet." Harry said motioning to Mary, who bristled at being insinuated as a pet, but kept her mouth clamped shut.

"They have names." John said between clenched teeth.

Harry waved the comment away, obviously not even caring. It was a known fact Harry thought all humans below her and should be treated as such. "Yes, yes. What has she been doing?"

"None of your concern." John sneered.

"Little brother you don't need to hide from me. I know you've been watching the upper world." Harry leered.

John breathed evenly, calming his mind so he wouldn't lash out at Harry. Mary reached out a hand and stroked his arm; Gladstone looked up from his paws. "I don't know what you mean."

Harry held her palm in front of her, her right index finger circling on her palm as she gazed upon the sinner, seeing all his crimes written upon her skin. "You have committed serious crimes Michael Robinson. You killed your own brother for money and murdered your wife under the influence of opium and alcohol; your enormous ego might also be mentioned on your record. You intimidated your workers and basked in their suffering."

The man trembled. "Forgive my-…"

Harry laughed crazily and pointed at the man, her laughter increasing as he cried out in pain. Black fire consuming him. Harry turned towards her brother with a sly grin. "Now we have a few seconds to chat."

John clenched his fists, digging his nails into his father's golden throne. "You didn't even give him time to finish."

"Oh Johnny, when will you learn all humans are the same slimy low creatures that grovel at our feet to spare them. Each thinking they might be special enough." Harry sneered with arrogance.

John clenched his jaw. "Don't call me that Harriett, I am not a child."

Harry hissed upon being called by her girl name. "Don't cross me little brother."

John leaned across his armrest, tired of Harry constantly intimidating him. "You are no threat to me you slothful drunken git. Get your own twisted life together before you even attempt to tell me your opinion. My pets, as you call them, are far more respected than you ever will be. I've made a name for myself, what have you done?" John said going for the kill shot.

Thoroughly humiliated Harry abruptly stood up, her blue eyes flashing dangerously as she tugged harshly on Clara's chain. The guards around the Throne room had enough training not to crack a single smile but under their helmets John could see their red eyes twinkling with mirth. Harry stormed out of the throne room, her black cape fluttering behind her as Clara desperately tried to keep up with her Mistresses long strides. John watched Harry depart and listened to her retreating footsteps before deflating into his seat. Leaning his head down to cover his face with his right hand.

"That might not have been the smartest thing to say to your sister." Mary said softly. "Remember what happened last time you angered the wrong people?"

John winced and rubbed his right shoulder, where a puckered scar throbbed at the mere thought of the memory. War wasn't always the safest place to be and John had learned the hard way desperate men do crazy things. He knew angering Harry could get him into more trouble but he just couldn't stand for his friends to be degraded in front of him.

"What news have you from Athena?"

Mary pursed her lips, not at all happy John was changing the subject. "She has located a suitable match."

John brightened, lifting his head from his hand and smiling brightly as his friend. "I fancy a vacation; want to go Above with me?"

Mary looked horrified at the thought of leaving Hell. "John you know I possibly can't. I'd die up there."

John scoffed and shifted in his seat. "You wouldn't and you know it. You're just a Nancy boy."

"I'm a proper lady." Mary retorted.

"Maybe before you died and became my personal secretary." John pointed out.

Marry huffed, her cheeks puffing like a grumpy child. "I don't see why you can't own up and just take the throne."

John waved the next sinner in, barely giving the sobbing women his attention. "I don't want it and I never have. It'd be better for everyone if I just find someone and he takes the throne. I'm far more useful out in the field."

"Sometimes I feel you enjoy Moriarty's company over mine." Mary hissed, her eyes narrowing.

"Not this again." John mumbled. "Mary, no I don't. I only spend time with the psychopath because he helps me concur the darkness."

"Spending time with him gets you these." Mary yelled waving her hand at the bloody flowers. "The man's a freak John, leave him and stay with us."

John's fingers twitched. "I don't know any other way."

"You stubborn ar000se! You haven't even tried, you're so consumed by finding a good ruler you haven't stepped back to realize you're the ruler we need." Marry pleaded.

John shook his head. "This conversation is over."

"John listen-…"

"Over!" He yelled.

His command pulled the ribbon around Mary's throat and she choked on her words. John bit his lip and winced at her pained expression, but didn't apologize. He loved Mary more that anyone but he wouldn't let her over step her boundaries. The guards shifted at John's outburst. Turning his attention away from Mary, John flicked his wrist at the sinner who had stopped begging.

"20 years in the pit, may that be a punishment for your sins of Wrath, Jacob White." The man disappeared into a puff of black smoke, leaving the faint smell of sulfur.

"Mary arrange for me to go above and tell Athena I'm coming. I want to meet this man." John said with a smile.

Mary nodded curtly, her mouth still sealed shut. John reached up, stretching his back with a pop. Tomorrow he'd meet the man who'd become King of Hell. Athena assured him this Holmes fellow was perfectly suited for the job. Even just the thought of visiting Athena again and escaping Hell sounded nice. His dark eyes drifted to the floor and the bloody flowers and John frowned. Who sent them and what was their intention?

* * *

><p>--/-/-/-/-/-/-

Thanks for all the favorite and Story alerts! I was so excited so I decided to update this quickly!

**Yuki**- awww thanks I thought since John is part of the family they'd all have to be badassed! I'm so glad you're enjoying this!

**Xarime**- HAHAHAH ur addicted to this! Oh my gods that makes me giddy to my toes with happiness! That's the nicest review anyone has ever given me thanks!

**Serpentrose**- I'm thrilled that you love the idea and hope it is all you are wanting and more. Good point he is 'a' Prince of Hell at the moment but we all know that he's THE prince...because Anderson=useless and Moriarty= insanity

**Detective J. H. Sherwood**- Let me just begin with I ADORE your username! *squeal* and thanks for the review! I'm glad you like it

I adore the number four ((hint hint)) so getting four reviews made me so excited here' the next chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

total of **504 Hits** and **328 Visitors** to story: **Prince of Hell**.- WoW.. I can't thank you guys enough so I'm publishing this chapter early! A bit sad I only got 3 reviews but they were so nice I decided what the hell! But next time I want 4…..ok THANKS!

**-‡-****Prince of Hell-****‡-**

**Chapter Three**

Athena nervously fidgeted with her Blackberry but her pretty face displayed a calm façade. She stood by the corner next to the busy tube, watching the humans shuffle in and out. Her sharp eyes may have been looking down on her phone as she typed but she was fully alert and watching for her Masters approach. I'd been five years since she had last seen him. In death Athena had committed the sins of thievery and vanity which sent her to the Moriarty's, John had been disgusted at her treatment under their Princes' hand and challenged the Prince for her release. Athena reached up and felt the black ribbon around her neck, she allowed a small smile. It was an honor to serve under Prince John.

She felt his arrival as if the sun had exploded and flooded the world with heat and light, washing the mundane from the area and replacing the stiff air with his all-consuming presence. John limped out of the tub station, the humans subconsciously making way. He was dressed oddly and Athena wrinkled her nose at his green jumper and faded blue jeans, coupled with his limp it gave him a sad look. Mary walked a step behind him, her golden hair artfully piled atop her head and a simple blue summer dress on her pale frame. Athena's face lit up at seeing her blood sister.

"Your majesty." Athena said with a bow, not caring what the humans thought. This was her Prince and her savior; she owed him the respect due.

"Please Athena, call me John here."

"As you command." She said seriously.

John looked around, noticing the humans still made way for the odd group of three, all eyes avoiding the three. Sliding away like butter on a hot pan, it was as if they didn't even exist. John held out his arms with a wide smile and Athena flew into his embrace, letting her proper façade fall for a moment as she allowed the warmth that radiated from John to soak into her skin and fill her senses.

"How are you doing?"

"As I stated in my last report, just fine." Athena said stepping away from the warm spice that was John's presence, she turned and hugged Mary who squealed with excitement.

"I know but I worry about you being up here alone." John whispered, watching his girls hug with a fatherly smile.

Athena backed away from Mary, straightening her clothes and checking her hair. She glanced back at her phone and nodded. "Ok we can catch up later but there is someone I'd like for you to meet."

"Holmes." John breathed.

Athena nodded before giving John a once over and raising an eyebrow in Mary's direction who sighed. "He wanted to wear that."

Athena pursed her lips. "That's all well and good but where we're going you'll need something more formal."

John grimaced. "Does that mean shopping?"

"Yes sir." Athena said as she stepped away from the building and walked across the sidewalk to where a black car was waiting. She opened the door with a flourish. "I have arranged everything. Tonight you will meet him."

John sighed and limped over. Struggling to get into the car before he settled inside it's leather interior. He looked around and finally noticed her black designer dress. "I only gave you a bit of gold so you could live comfortably. What have you been doing?"

Athena smiled like a Cheshire cat. "I made some investments and opened some business in the name of Watson. You are just as important Above and below."

John face palmed with a groan. "Athena although I'm flattered that's what I wanted to avoid."

Mary and Athena exchanged a look before Athena waved the choefur on and he smoothly moved into the busy mid-day traffic of London. The bright sun shining through the cloudy day.

-/-/-/-/-/-

John was grateful to flop down upon Athena's leather couch as his girls chatted away in the large master bathroom. From the smell they were bathing in perfume, lotion and make-up. His leg ached from standing on a dais for hours as a small tailor took his measurements and rushed him a fitted black suit with a silk red tie and handkerchief. Looking at himself in the mirror with his blonde hair, square-ish face, dark eyes and black suit he looked like one of those iconic devils the humans had on their television series to sign of some poor unsuspecting person's soul. He grimaced at the thought. Propping his shinny Italian leather shoes up on the glass table John leaned back into the couch with a sigh. Athena had her apartment heated to a nice ninety degrees and her black and red leather furnishings reminded him of home. She didn't have any pictures or homey artifacts.

Athena and Mary emerged from the bath room twenty minutes later to find John dozing on the couch a pillow clutched to his chest. The girls shared a smile, each going to his side. Mary put a hand on John's right shoulder.

"He hasn't been the same since he got shot." Mary whispered so as to let her prince sleep undisturbed.

"Is that why he sent me up?"

Mary shrugged, truly not even knowing the reason. "I guess the blow hit him harder that we thought and he believed that his injury made him a crippled and useless. After his recovery is when he became obsessed with finding the perfect heir."

Athena nodded, looking down upon her master. "This might not end well."

Mary looked up at her blood sister. "What?"

"Holmes….there's two of them, either would work but they're a bit different."

Mary chuckled darkly. "John's a Prince of Hell looking for the perfect fair ruler of the sinners; it doesn't get stranger than that."

Athena nodded but still looked skeptical. "Just be prepared."

Mary reluctantly nodded. She reached out and lightly shook John awake. "John, John. It's time to go."

John's blue eyes flew open and he smiled up at the beautiful women above him. "Angels! Am I in heaven?"

The girls laughed at John, both blushing prettily at his generous compliment as he stood up and offered his arms out to escort his friends to that nights charity gala. Mary held his silver cane in on hand. "Let's go."

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

The Human's need to lavishly decorate everything never ceased to shock John. I had been centuries since he had last set foot on the above ground and things hadn't truly changed, just the technology to make life easier for those who could afford it. Sub-consciously the humans knew he was dangerous and important, the glittery guests carefully moved around him, their eyes flickering around nervously. John brushed it off as having two beautiful women on his arms. Mary in her short skin tight blue dress and Athena in a stunning lacey black evening gown.

In the car to the Charity gala Athena explained that in the five years she'd been above ground she had invested in hospitals in the Watson name. Now almost all private and public hospitals belonged to the Watsons; a mysterious family no one had ever seen until tonight when the eldest son decided to attend the charity even for his newest hospital. Athena giggled as she also explained she had forged documents stating John was a Doctor and currently lived alone. Athena had even gone as far as to create personas for the entire family, complete with birth certificates, high school and college diplomas. Athena had even arranged for Harry and Clara to be legally married under her majesties crown. John was impressed at Athena's thoroughness.

"John, John Watson?" A pudgy man cried through the crowd as he fought his way through and stood in front of John, beaming up at him.

John looked down at the slightly smaller man with a frown. The man may have looked innocent and human to a normal pair of eyes but to John he was enormous and black as the night sky. A red tongue hang from the side of his mouth and his yellow eyes where laden lazily. He was a daemon of sloth.

"Do I know him?" John whispered to Athena.

"Yes you went to Uni with him. He was your roommate for all eight years. You remained friends even after you went to war. His name is Mike Stamford" Athena whispered back, Mary leaned forward to listen in.

Amazed that Athena had gotten a Sloth daemon to do anything, John decided to play along. "How have you been Mike?"

"Doing well and I put on a few pounds." The daemon called Mike said with a sly grin.

"This is where we must part. I will see you later. Play the part my prince." Athena whispered as she placed a gentle kiss on John's left cheek and untangled herself from his arm. She sauntered into the mob of guests and disappeared.

Mary and John watched her go, both sad of the loss of her presence. John turned back to the daemon and looked around; spotting a couch in the corner he jerked his chin in that direction. Mike followed him to the quite area and settled upon the leather cushion. The daemon dropped his innocent façade as a bubble of human ignorance oozed from their area, the guests tuning their backs and avoiding the corner.

"Prince Watson, I had heard the rumors."

"An Anderson." John sneered.

The daemon stiffened and spat on the ground with a snarl. "I despise the name and curse their family for generations. Your pet approached me with the idea of a conquest."

John raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't informed of this."

"It's simple. I help you get something here and you over throw those good for nothing Anderson's and take over Sloth and Gluttony. Once you have us, we'd be more than happy to help you defeat the Morarity's."

"What can a daemon of sloth do?" John asked.

"Please your Highness, you may be the Greatest Prince that ever was and daemons tremble at your name but you haven't set foot Above in centuries and times have changed. You need a man in the know."

"And that would be you?" John asked. He was impressed a daemon of sloth was taking initiative and being so forceful. All the Anderson's where always so useless in his eyes and it was a nice change to see a proper one. But the thought of a larger Kingdom and an overthrow twisted at his stomach. He dreamed of a single Kingdom as it once was but the notion that he should be the ruler made him pale. He would make a terrible king.

"The very same." Mike said with a pleasant smile his demonic form wiggling at the edges, a movement John had come to associate with laughter for daemons.

John crossed his legs. Mary passed him his silver cane and he rubbed the head thoughtfully. "Who'd want me?" He admitted.

Mike looked at the Prince for a second before bursting into laughter. "You know you're the second person to say that to me today."

John frowned looking confused. "Who was the first?"

"Him." Mike said point out of the bubble and towards a tall lanky man standing alone by the wall under a crystal lamp. His unruly black hair was tamed slightly and he'd had a pair of startling gray green eyes. He glared away anyone who dared approach him.

"Oh he's cute." Mary cried out. John raised an eyebrow at the daemon of sloth, wondering why the daemon was point men out to him.

Mike stood up, containing his demonic form into his pudgy human one. "Let me introduce you to the cream of the crop of humans. They've gotten craftier."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>_

Yuki- your enthusiasm makes me giggle! And the meeting awww well sorry for the cliffhanger but it's in ch4!

Serpentrose- Oh I loved the dance! Oh I am taking my time and already have the next 2 chapters so for you effort here's ch3! Hahaha Mary as Sherlock's mom? I love that…but no, no she's not (or is she?..hahah)

Valkyrie-23- I'm glad you adore this story and took the time to review that means a lot to me! Enjoy!


	4. Chapter 4

_Some of the dialogue will be recognizable and at this point thinks start to swerve away from the original story…..Oh and I just realized I never put a disclaimer but let's be real here? I'm not the owner so yeahhh! There may be a few errors i was so psyched to get this out!_

**-‡-****Prince of Hell-****‡-**

**Chapter Four**

"Bit different from my day." John murmured as he limped through the crowd of well-dressed socialites. A small symphony played on a dais in the front of the ballroom.

"You have no idea." Mike snorted as they approached the tall lanky man who was clutching his flute of champagne as if it was a life vest and he was in stormy sea water, and in a sense John thought that might be true.

"May I borrow your phone?' The man asked imminently.

John stepped back, not expecting the tall man to be so forward. Mike smiled and shrugged as he patted himself down. "I left the thing at home."

John remembered the phone Athena had slipped in his breast pocket before they had left the gala. He pulled it out, and handed it to the strange man. "Here use mine."

The tall man nodded thanks and quickly opened the keyboard before his fingers flew over the device. "Afghanistan or Iraq?" He promptly handed it back with a smug grin.

John looked over at Mike with query; the daemon folded his arms and grinned widely. "Sorry. What was that?"

The stranger looked down at his glass and then around the room. "Which one was it? Afghanistan or Iraq?"

John racked his brain for the location Athena had told him he was supposed to have served in. "Afghanistan. How did you know that?"

Smugly taking a sip from his drink, the man's gray-green eyes flickered around the sparkly guest's, barely resting on anyone for longer than a few moments. John had the distinct impression everything this man did was done smugly. A plain looking woman with bright red lipstick in a short white cocktail dress fought her way towards the corner. Her mousy brown hair held the hit of once being beautifully styled but had become lopsided and messy. She held another glass of champagne and a plate of assorted appetizers. She delicately walked over to the man and offered him the glass; he nodded and gave her his empty one.

"Ah Molly, the lipstick is a huge improvement, now your lips aren't too small."

Her right eye twitched but she remained smiling kindly at the tall man. Standing loyally at his side as a dog would with its master. The action made John think of his blood bond mates, although he doubted a human could have managed such a feat, she must have been completely infatuated with him. Oh the crimes other have committed for their 'soul mates,' most of the where sentenced to his realm. It was sad that even in hell they still believed they hadn't been used and then thrown away.

"How do you feel about the violin? I play the violin when I'm thinking and sometimes I don't talk for days on end." The man stated suddenly, surprising John.

His eyebrows crinkled in confusion. Why in the world would he care if the strange man plays the violin or doesn't talk? "What?"

The tall man continued on as if John hadn't interrupted him. "Does that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other?"

John glanced at Mike who was complacently looking down at his designer shoes. The Prince was lost for words, unsure what had just happened. He had been lead to believe he was just being introduced to this tall man who by Mike's word was the 'cream of the crop of humans' and now this odd man was asking about flatmates. John shifted his stance, leaning heavier on his cane. It wasn't often anyone caught him off guard.

"Who said anything about being flatmates?" John questioned.

"I did." The man stated abruptly.

"I told Mike this morning I must be a difficult person to find a flat mate for and here he is with an old friend clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan. It wasn't a difficult leap."

John opened his mouth and then closed it. He was beyond confused and stunned at this point. Where was this man getting all his information? It was half true, he had just come back from the war, in Hell, but he wasn't looking for a place to stay. John assumed he'd be staying with Athena since he had been the one to endorse her trip to the world Above, but the way she had kissed his cheek and bid him goodbye he wondered if she had planned something clever. Not to mention he still hadn't met this Holmes.

John glanced at Mike and in his vision the daemon rose from the portly human shell and waved his hand in a circle as if to say play along. John knew that humans never fared well after they learned about the different planes co-existing in their reality. Most went insane. John licked his lips and looked down, playing the part of a man thinking hard, it wasn't that hard, his mind was buzzing.

"How….how did you know about Afghanistan?" And that question did boggle him.

The lankly gentleman suddenly shoved his glass at Molly, and patted down his jacket before pulling out his own cell phone and clicking through it. "I have to dash. Let's meet up tomorrow at seven."

Not ready for this intriguing man to leave him company just yet, John reached out as the man passed and pulled on his elbow. "Is that it? We've only just met and we're going to look at a flat?"

The man looked down at Johns hand before he let go, before dusting invisible particles off himself. "Problem?"

If it wouldn't be considered rude and improper, John would have slammed his head against the wall in frustration. Of course it was a problem. He was a Prince of Hell and this was an ordinary human, the crazed man didn't even have the sense to feel the least bit intimidated or scared of him. John was partly worried for his mental health. Why didn't this odd man want to avoid him?

John thought it best to warn him. "We don't know a thing about each other. I don't know where we're meeting. I don't even know your name."

John expected the man to pause, to at least think about it for a second. But instead the man narrowed his eyes and took a step forward, as if proving he wasn't scared.

"I know you're an army doctor and you've been invalidated home from Afghanistan. I know you've got a brother who's worried about you but you won't go to him, possibly because he's an alcoholic, or more recently because he walked out on his wife. And I know your therapist thinks you're limp is psychosomatic, quite correctly; I'm afraid. That's enough to be going on, don't you think?"

He wanted to burst into laughter, to bring this smug man down to size. It wasn't often John felt infringed upon but this human was different and he liked that. Unwilling to smash this man's correct deductions of his false life, John sighed, letting his shoulders sag as if in defeat. It was amazing he had figured all that information out in just a few short moments, neither Molly nor Mike seemed at all surprised so John guessed this was a frequent occurrence. The man nodded curtly and sauntered off towards the opposite end of the glittery room filled lightly with music, his sharp eyes trained on a tall man with silver hair in a black suit.

John turned towards Mike his jaw falling open a millimeter. After seeing the man leave Mary approached the two, nodding graciously at Molly. "Who was that?"

"That was Mr. Holmes." Molly grinned.

"He looks cynical, poor soul." Mary said which was amusing in its own right since she judged damned souls on a day basis.

"Cynical he may be but boring he most certainly is not." Molly said with a sly grin, walking back into the fluttery crowd.

John and Mary looked at each other shocked, that was Holmes? A smile spread across John's face. The Prince turned to the awaiting daemon. "Did you mention me?"

"Not a word." At John's raised eyebrow the daemon held out his hands, wrists up in the universal underworld sign of submission. "He's always like that."

John nodded thoughtfully and tapped his forefinger against Mike's wrists, a gesture of release and no-harm-done. The daemon bowed his head and crossed a hand over his chest in a mock royal recognition. John grimaced but nodded back in proper response. The daemon of Sloth licked his lips and turned around wedging his way back into the crowd. Mary stood by John's side, both waiting for the daemon to move out of hearing distance, which was a distance.

"That was Holmes?" Mary asked with bated breath, unsure about this man.

John swallowed as his blue eyes slid along the invited humans, searching for any more daemons he should be aware of, especially any of Lust, Vainglory or Greed. His shoulders relaxed slightly. Besides Mike and a red headed daemon of Pride on some Real Estate mogul's arm, there were no other daemons John could detect. The pretty daemon felt his gaze and turned her large brown eyes in his direction, upon seeing her sovereign she nodded in his direction, about to let go of her date and approach him. She stilled as John shook his head. That would cause a fuss and draw more attention to him. She inclined her head and promptly turned her attention back to her date.

"Please follow me." A familiar voice interrupted.

Athena appeared out of the crowd, two burly men at her side. John preened on the inside that she didn't need guards to take care of her; he'd trained her to fight with the best of them. Figuring he was still supposed to play the role of John Watson: human army doctor he frowned in confusion.

"To where?"

Athena smiled indulgently as if talking to a demanding child. "Someone wishes for your company Mr. Watson."

Taking a deep breath and tightly gripping his cane, to diminutively appear ruffled, John offered his right arm to Mary and walked forward. Mary beamed as if walking with him was her greatest pleasure. The two followed behind Athena and into the crowd. The guests all parting consciously for the women, and the two guards who followed behind. John was slightly impressed at the power this unknown person had. Obviously Athena worked with the nameless powerhouse. Athena led them in the direction Sherlock had gone and up a small staircase to an opera box above the large decorated ballroom. A lean man in a smart gray suit leaned against the railing overlooking the guests. John wondered why he hadn't noticed the man nor the box before but waved it away. In the large box where two leather couches. Athena walked to one and gracefully sat down, typing away at her Blackberry and pretending that Mary and John didn't even exist much less matter.

"Have a seat, John" The man said in a smooth voice not bothering to turn around from his emperor pose above the mass of laughing and chattering guests.

John moved to the couches and let Mary sit across from Athena as he stood by her side. "And you are?"

"A friend." The man purred as the turned around, leaning back on his elbows and crossing his leg in front of him. He had a lean face that seemed expressionless and dull but through his gray-green eyes sparkled with mischief. He looked to be in his mid-forties, so around John's human bodies age.

John pursed his lips at the man. He didn't have friends. It wasn't in a daemons nature to have friends. The idea struck him as absurd but itched none the less in the back of his mind. His second day in the realm of the humans and already he was intrigued with two separate men.

"Why?"

"Do you have trust issues?" The new stranger asked with a pleasant smile as if that was the most wonderful thing in the world. The smile made John feel queasy.

John cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. "That's none of your business."

"Most people blunder around this city and all they see are streets and shops and cars. But when you walk it's a battlefield. You should fire your therapist, you're not haunted by the war you miss it." The man purred with a sultry smile. "Welcome back to London Dr. Watson. Please enjoy the compliments of my box."

The man gave John a smoldering look, sharply turned heel and walked out of the box followed by the two brawny guards. Athena stayed behind still typing away on her phone. The three Hellions listening for the man's retreating footsteps. As they disappeared into the noise of the party. Two pairs of eyes turned to stare at Athena with inquiring.

"That was Mr. Holmes." She simply stated. "I think he liked you."

"Good Gods." John cursed. "There are two of them."

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading!<p>

Oh my Gods 6 reviews for one chapter….I'm so excited here's Ch 4….I feel it's evil to ask but 4 reviews! I hope not but it makes me ridiculously happy since it is my favorite number!

Serpentrose- I'm utterly thrilled you've reviewed every chapter so Gold star's! I guess your dance is working! XDI hope you liked the brothers and you weren't held up with too much excitement!

valkyrie-23- *blush* If you keep saying you adore this my head my swell of happiness!

Angel of Love and Fluffy Stuff- I felt happy just reading your username! Thanks for reviewing! And I'm pleased as peach you think it's such an interesting world! I had read many stories where Sherlock is the demon and John the human so I thought to take a spin to it! Hope the short wait was worth it!

LittleMissDreamer7- Is seven your favorite number? My twin sister's is! I've never had my story called BRILLIANT before you paint a blush upon me! I hope a day is soon enough! Reviews make me uber happy! And it's even an even number!

Yuki- Oh my first and frequent reviewer! I'm glad I could make your night! I read fanfics to go to sleep or if I had a crap day! Your wish is my command and here's the next chapter!

Angeluz66- Cute! I assume its angel loves 66 ((demonic number for a demonic story XD )) but I could be wrong *shrug* Yeah it's interesting...that's all I can ever ask for so enjoy!

_**I normally don't do this but OMG I saw this and it kinda inspired this chapter so http:/youtube .com/ watch?v=sXFg4IO6-VA here it is!**_


	5. Chapter 5

_Get ready for a Plot twist! It's about to get interesting!_

**-‡-****Prince of Hell-****‡-**

**Chapter Five**

Later that night in a small hotel bed, with Mary comfortably curled around him like a personal teddy bear; John realized that the second Holmes must have been watching him the entire time he was at the Charity Gala. A procession he never felt like repeating again. It was bad enough the humans avoided his company but crowded his space the entire night. John also didn't get to see the first Holmes again or find out his name. He didn't know what to call either of the Holmes, only first and second, which made his lips twitch in amusement. Were they even related? Brother's? Cousins? Dark blue eyes flickered around the shadowy room. The scare furniture and gloomy setting almost convinced John he was back in Hell nestled in his own room, the cold convinced his brain otherwise. How could humans find seventy degrees warm?

"The wanker didn't even tell me where we're meeting up." John growled.

His eyes snapped down to Mary. He hadn't thought about her and he naturally assumed she would follow him, but he didn't think the first Holmes to be the kind who enjoyed surprises. It wasn't like he could just arrive with Mary and announce _"This is my blood bond slave but I treat her like my sister. I hope its ok that she stays, we're just checking out your potential to take over my job as the Prince of Hell. By the way fancy a cuppa tea?"_ John snorted at the bazar thought. Yeah that wasn't going to happen.

Squeezing his eyes shut John concentrated on his breaths, a helpful technique from his warring days. Slowly he drifted into the blissful darkness and into silent dreams; free of the damned's endless screaming. A lullaby he'd never miss.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

"Mary I'm not a doctor, the closest I've ever come to being an Army doctor was ripping the spin out of an enemy and then bringing back his corpse to fight against his own kind." John sighed.

Mary tittered in amusement behind her cup of tea, the one thing she missed most from Above. Even John loved when the robust leaves where brewed; it was a pleasure to smell something warm and happy. They sat at a tiny table, provided by the Hotel, by a large window overlooking the beautiful city of London as the sun peeked over the horizon. Athena had left them a message via the Hotel to tell them Mary could stay with her but that John should look for a place. John was ruffled at first that his own blood bond was kicking him out but he settled down after he realized reason. Jumping to conclusions was purely a Watson's trait.

"How can I pretend to be a doctor around that-…those men?" He complained.

Mary nodded, her eyes locked upon the sunset, gazing at it hungrily. She didn't need to truly listen to John, he'd figure it out himself. He just needed someone to ramble on to.

John rubbed his face as his shoulders slumped. On the bedside, John's phone trilled a happy turn. John shot a perplexed look at Mary. "Is it dying?"

She chuckled and pulled her blue robe closer around her body. John wore a thin white shirt and a pair of soft blue sleeping pants. His suit and her dress where hanging in the closet along with a suitcase of new clothes, jumpers included. She wondered when he'd realize that although he looked cuddly in, they just weren't fitting for a Prince of Hell. On the other hand looking harmless would make the humans more likely to approach him.

"That means you have a text message." Mary replied.

John pursed his lips and eyed the small black device before getting up with the help of his cane and limping over to the bed. He sat down and picked up the device.

_221B Baker Street_

_Come once if convenient_

_-SH_

John looked down at the phone, wondering who it might have been. He had a suspicion but wasn't fully sure. It rang again and another message popped up.

_If inconvenient_

_Come anyway_

_-SH_

John smiled as he stood up, what the hell, he could use a little bit of mystery and adventure. Going over to the wardrobe he selected a pair of comfy jeans and a jumper. "Don't wait up Mary, I might be late." He called as he threw on his clothes and dashed out of the room. Mary smiled over her cup of tea, turning back the sun that had fully risen. She hadn't ever seen him this excited. It was a nice change.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

John stood awkwardly at the doorstep of 221B Baker Street, unsure whether to knock. In the olden times one was invited in but John wasn't sure if that was the case now, the humans seemed much more relaxed in this century. Maybe he should go in? A cab pulled up and the first Holmes bounded out with the grace of a gazelle but the attitude of an excited puppy. The strange cross brought a smile to John's lips as he watched the man bound forward and rapidly knock on the green door. An elderly woman promptly answered. She had graying hair, a purple dress and the kind of disposition most grandmothers from fairytales do. She appeared to be the type to bake cookies. John loved cookies and it'd been a few centuries since he'd last consumed on.

"Sherlock!" The women proclaimed joyously, holding her arms out to the first Holmes.

"Ms. Hudson, this is Dr. John Watson. He's going to share the flat with me."

John frowned at who he now knew was Sherlock, who had briefly hugged the elderly lady with what he assumed was affection. "I never said that."

Sherlock ignored him, an action Harry used to do when she didn't like what he'd said. John rolled his eyes and followed after the man up the stairs, taking note of the leafy wallpaper and finding it oddly soothing. At the top Sherlock opened a door. John hobbled in, surveying the quaint apartment. It was very nice and from his spot he could see outside through the open windows, thinly veiled in cream. The wallpaper was some sort of dark brown flower print and one wall was a rich forest green. The fireplace accented it all and made the flat homey. The mess was a bit startling but John felt it could be worked around.

"This is a nice place." He commented walking around and just soaking it in. Sherlock's lips twitched happily as his eyes alit. John caught the expression form the corner of his eye.

Sherlock clapped his hands. "That's what I thought so I already moved in."

John turned and looked at him, raising an eyebrow and motioning to the boxes and junk littered over every usable surface. "It's a lot of stuff."

Sherlock looked embarrassed as he moved around and attempted to tidy up. "Well, obviously I can straighten things up."

John watched the lanky man hurry about throwing things back into boxes and sat in the left chair by the empty fireplace. He could admit Sherlock was handsome and the sight of the man bending down and biting his lip in worry was an appealing picture to view. Ms. Hudson walked in holding a newspaper. "There's a bedroom upstairs if you'll be needing it."

John drummed his fingers on the chair. "Of course I'll be needing it."

Ms. Hudson chuckled fondly. "Don't worry dear there's all sorts around here."

John frowned. He didn't have a problem with others insinuating he was gay because it was true, but he assumed John Watson human army doctor might. He really hated this stupid persona. It confused people and then no one got to know the real him. Sherlock stopped moving at his comment, long fingers stilling over a book before the moment was broken and he continued throwing junk back into boxes. The two fondly ignored him and kept moving around. Ms. Hudson just moving around while Sherlock took off his jacket and scarf, hanging both behind the door.

"What about these suicides, Sherlock? I thought they'd be right up your street."

John's head snapped up from where he had been blankly staring out the open window, marveling at the fall day. The question struck him as odd, why would this elderly woman ask Sherlock about suicides? His left palm itched and he desperately wanted to rub it and read their sins, maybe he was wrong about this Holmes. But he resisted and just listened. Sherlock turned his back on Ms. Hudson to gaze out the window in thought.

"There's been a forth, and something is different this time."

John's eyes widened at the man's calm voice and glazed over expression. It was as if an oracle was predicting what was to come. Doubt on Sherlock's human status flooded his mind before he pushed that thought away. On the stairs he heard bounding footsteps. A tall man in a brown jacket and graying hair and strong disposition appeared at the open door. He was panting heavily and his light gray eyes where wide.

Sherlock didn't greet them man just barked at him. "Where?"

"Brixton"

Sherlock turned his head. "What's different?"

"This one left a note. Are you coming?"

"Not in the car, I'll take a cab." He said with a happy grin. "Oh it's Christmas!"

Sherlock grabbed his jacket and scarf and bounded down the stairs as the other man stood at the door way. Neither the man nor Ms. Hudson seemed surprised at his joyous outburst on a suicide; John noted that down as another of Sherlock's growing list of quirks. Ms. Hudson nodded at the man patting his shoulder as she left. "Don't work too hard Lestrade."

He smiled down at her fondly. "Of course."

John stood up, gripping his cane hard enough to make his knuckles tight. The two men stood staring at each other. Lestrade looked down the stairs, listening for the humans to leave before approaching John, with a leering smile. The air in the room thickened and became stale as the two being moved from the present human reality to a sub-layer of limbo. The outside noises of the busy London streets below became quite as the world stopped turning on its axis.

Human's where delicate creatures with fascinating minds that could image creatures of the night and light but couldn't handle actually seeing them. John flicked out his right hand, a silver browning appearing in his waiting hands, the gun softly smoking black. It was his preferred weapon of choice when on the realm. Lestrade flipped back his coat and with his left hand reached to his right side and pulled out a silver sword, faintly glowing. The two men pointed their weapons at each other.

Attacking would be declaring war. John sure as hell didn't need the extra stress and he assumed the celestial didn't either.

"John Watson, I had heard the rumors but never thought I'd see the great Prince of Hell in my realm."

"St. George. Slain any monsters lately? By the looks of things you just can't stay away from murder." John sneered.

Lestrade gritted his teeth. "Leave the Holmes alone."

John was about to protest that he hadn't planned to corrupt Sherlock in any manner but stopped, Lestrade had said Holmes. The Lestrade's' where the Watson's flip side of Patience, Kindness and Humanity and George being their eldest son was the obvious heir. It only made sense he also was looking for someone else, but John assumed his intention where far more noble like marriage and commitment. The celestials where ripe with their rules of purity. John lowered his gun to his side and relaxed his position. George looked startled at John's surrender before a duel could even be instigated. Lestrade narrowed his eyes but kept his sword pointed at John's heart, in his experience Hellions weren't to be trusted ever.

"What makes you so sure I've met the other?" John said smugly, the celestial looked ruffled.

"Stay away from them. They're great people and one day might even be good men." Lestrade threatened, he was impressed then the blonde man didn't even blink.

John took a step forward. "I only want one thing; a new King. Look at me I'm crippled and old news, but one of them would be perfect. We could finally have the fair ruler we need and I could take down those Moriarty's once and for all. Or I could let the crown pass to Harry and we'd be looking at the next war."

Lestrade studied John, sighing heavily the celestial heir lowered his sword, rubbing the back of his head. "I underestimated you, John Watson."

The blonde daemon smiled lazily. "You know I hear that a lot." John flicked his wrist again, his gun disappearing into a black mist. He hobbled forward and offered his hand to Lestrade.

"Let's start over. I'm just John Watson; Army doctor."

Lestrade let his own sword go and it dissipated into a cloud of light before taking John's out stretched hand. "Greg Lestrade; Detective Inspector."

The Celestial Heir and Prince of Hell shook hands as the sub-reality slipped away around them and they were left standing in the current realm. The sounds of the busy London streets flowed through the room, and Ms. Hudson chatted to herself as she journeyed down the stairs. John dropped Greg's hand and stepped away, both men nodding at the other. Greg turned on his heel and stomped down the stairs, out to his car. John sighed heavily rubbing the back of his neck; he looked down at his crippled leg.

"Damn my leg."

* * *

><p><em>-Quick Question DOES ANYONE want to see an epic daemon battle in sub-limbo between John and said daemonic possessions or Should he just shoot them? I can do either way!<em>

_**Thanks for reading!**_

**Yuki**- I am so glad you keep reviewing every chapter! It makes me giddy with excitement! Ohh cookies sugar cookies are my fav! Ok so u wished and here it is!

**Notmydivision12345**- Love the username and thanks for the review just telling me what you thought was good enough and I appreciate the effort so *bows* thank you!


	6. Chapter 6

_I assume we're all big kids here and cursing won't be a problem but for those who do have a problem well...… yeah._

**-‡-****Prince of Hell-****‡-**

**Chapter Six**

"You're an army doctor." Sherlock said pulling his leather gloves down on his long fingers.

So deep in his own musings and self-pity, John hadn't heard the man come back up the stairs. Great Gods that man moved like a shadow. John briefly wondered if he should sleep with one eye open. "Yes."

"Any good?"

John hoped he channeled human confidence correctly. "Very good."

"Probably seen a lot of carnage and blood. Violent deaths too." Sherlock continued, lazily leaning against the open door frame.

Thinking of his warring days, John's eyes looking into a distant memory. "Yes, far too many."

"Want to see another?" Sherlock said with a mischievous smile.

John perked up at the idea of getting out, of traveling anywhere with this fascinating human being. "Gods yes." He breathed.

Sherlock broke into a smile that seemed to make him glow. With a flap of his coat he turned on his heel, thumping down the stairs, John eagerly followed behind. Stopping outside as Sherlock hailed a cab and they climbed in, both tittering with excitement and grinning like fools.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

"What do you do?"

Sherlock's grin faded off his face as the cab traveled through the darkening streets of London the streetlights twinkling like stars as they rushed by. "I do consulting work for Scotland Yard when they're out of their depth, which is always."

"The yard wouldn't consult an amateur." John stated, hoping to further move the conversation. Sherlock seemed to have shut down.

"Your skin is tanned but not below the wrists or neck so you've been abroad, but not sunbathing. At the Gala you said 'not in my day' showing you've been away from society for a while and your medical history was easy; it was your event for your family's newest hospital. Then your phone, it's a newer model, but you seem the simple type so it was given to you by a relative that wants to keep in touch, probably a brother. He gave you that phone which was a gift from his wife after he left her, you probably disapproved of him walking out on her but it was probably the drinking that caused the rift. Which brings us to the scrapes on the side of the phone, you don't see a sober man's with it and never see a drunken man's without. So you were right; the yard doesn't consult amateurs."

John's jaw dropped. "That…that was fantastic."

Sherlock perked up, clearly not expecting praise, but his face glowed happily. "That isn't what they normally say."

John's eyebrows knit. "What do they normally say?"

"Piss off."

The two men looked at each other before once again ginning like loons and chuckling. John felt an inner warmth he'd never felt before blossoming in his chest. It was soothing and calm. The more he looked at Sherlock the warmer it became until John was certain the tingling warmth would consume him. Not that he would complain.

"Did I get anything wrong?"

John wanted to yell 'Yes' from the top of the rooftops and declare his true nature but instead settled for the less obvious flaw in the brilliant man's deductions, that wouldn't puncture his ego too much.

"Harry is short for Harriet."

"Sister! There's always something." Sherlock groaned, causing John to chuckle at his petulant expression. He looked like a pouting child.

They arrived at a deserted building, police cars already blocking off traffic. The two men climbed out and Sherlock confidently strode towards the taped off area, his face alight with a joyous grin while his fingers drummed at his sides. At the tape a dark skinned women in a well-fitting business suit and glistening gold badge on her belt stopped them with a sneer. She reeked of sin. John felt like covering his mouth to stop the stench but felt that would be rude.

"Hello freak."

"Officer Donovan, you didn't make it home last night." Sherlock purred, but John could feel the malice radiating off of the two as they pleasantly smiled at each other. "Detective Inspector Lestrade invited me to have a look."

It seemed appropriate to faceplam at Sherlock's obvious statement towards Donovan. H was itching for a fight. John gripped his can tighter, trying to resist the urge to cover his face.

Her dark eyes flickered over to John and for a moment they widened and John was sure she recognized him, but they narrowed. "Who's he?"

"A friend." Sherlock supplied firmly, leaving no room to argue.

Sally Donovan seemed to consider his words before a sly smile slid over her face and she glowered up at Sherlock. John wished he could have punched her before the words came from her mouth. "Just a friend?" She purred, lifting the tape with a smug chuckle and leering gaze.

John stiffened and wanted so desperately to smite her where she stood, or burn her in black flames. How dare she insult him and his-..… John firmly shook himself from his musings, partly terrified at his own thoughts. He had never wished such harm on anyone before and all she had done was ignorantly make a lewd comment, Sherlock took it well with an icy shoulder, storming past the women. John's hand shook, was he losing it?

He certainly felt conflicted. So many emotions flowed through his mind. Laughter, anger, sadness, protectiveness. No of which we're odd for him but he couldn't recall them all happening in a single day. He needed a nap.

"Did he follow you home?" She commented as John hobbled past her.

"I did the following." He said truthfully, leaving her dumbstruck.

A man strutted down the stairs towards them in a blue medical suit. John stiffened as the man approached oozing Sloth and Gluttony. He was a thin man with beady eyes and shaggy brown hair and John would have bet his life that was Anderson. What was that moron doing Above? Last he'd heard the man was sulking in his palace after John had rejected him for the last time. Threating to burn him should he so much as even send a greeting card on his Birthday. John slunk behind Sherlock, mentally berating himself for acting cowardly but he hoping that Sherlock human smell would negate his own demonic one. He took a deep breath and suppressed his inner light. Luckily Anderson zeroed in on the tall man and ignored John's presence. He wasn't sure he could resist not punching the useless waste of space.

"Oh great the freak's here. This is a crime scene and I don't want it contaminated." Anderson hissed at Sherlock with more venom then John had ever known the spineless wimp to ever possess.

"Is your wife away for long?" Sherlock asked innocently.

John looked around the tall man to gaze at Anderson. He had a wife? That thought surprised him. Anderson sneered angrily. "Oh don't pretend you worked that out. Somebody told you that."

"Your deodorant told me." Sherlock exclaimed evenly, as if speaking of the weather. "It's for men."

"Of course it is, I'm wearing it." Anderson hissed his eyes narrowing.

John worriedly glanced at Sherlock not liking how aggressive Anderson was behaving. It was unlike the lazy daemon to so much as life his head; much less have the energy to be angry. Anderson remained him in a lot of ways like his hell hound Gladstone, except John might think twice before drowning his faithful companion; he wouldn't even hesitate for Anderson. Grudgingly John had to admit he was impressed at the change and the man's ability to actually grow a back bone. But why was he Above, married and working for Lestrade? Surely the daemonic Prince knew the Detective Inspector was a Celestial Heir?

"And so is Sargent Donovan." Sherlock hissed smugly, walking past the Prince and flowing into the house. Both persons in question froze with identical looks of horror on their faces. "I'm sure she just stopped for a chat and forgot to leave. And judging by the state of her knees she was also scrubbing your floors."

"A bit not good." John murmured getting people back is fine. He was all for that. But humiliating people in front of their peers was asking for trouble, something John was starting to think Sherlock did often.

Sherlock ignored him and continued on into the house. Lestrade met them at the door, giving John a nod.

"Anderson?" John hissed at the Inspector as he passed.

Lestrade shrugged. "He likes living Above and I promised him protection."

John snorted as he followed Sherlock up the stairs, Lestrade taking up the rear. As John traveled up the stairs he felt death lingering in the air. It wasn't the pleasant natural death but a violent forced one. His stomach twisted. The air was thick with desperation and fear. John shot a glance over his shoulder at Lestrade.

"This isn't normal."

The man only nodded in return as they came to a room on the third floor. A woman in a startling pink outfit lay face down. Sherlock circled her like a hawk. John held out his hand in front of him, quickly drawing a counter-clockwise circle. Greg looked over his shoulder with curiosity.

"Vainglory, Lust and Greed." The words elegantly wrote on his skin. John averted his eyes and lowered his hand, biting his lip. She was destined for Moriarty. The name short circuited his brain.

In a daze John listened to Sherlock smugly ramble off her life and where she was from before asking for a pink suit case. He remembered saying it was amazing and Sherlock puffing up but he was too absorbed in his own chaotic thoughts. His mind re-playing a single image in his mind. Lestrade touched his shoulder and John realized Sherlock had run off. He silently hobbled down the stairs, not even bothering to block his presence from Anderson anymore. No one approached him as he walked down the cold London streets, now thankful the sporadic Detective had left him to his thoughts.

Why did this happen to him? He didn't want a psychopath's attention. At first it had been flattering and in a creepy way a bit sweet but now even the thought made John feel sick to his stomach. Hell's fire John was a decent person, true he was demonic but he did his best. What did he do to deserve a nightmarish fan? John groaned loudly leaning against a red phone booth as it started ringing. He glared at the thing, wishing to send it up in flames. Ignoring the call he started to move away until a black car pulled up and a man hopped out, holding the door open. From inside Athena smiled at him from her BlackBerry. He smiled back weakly and climbed in.

"You weren't answering, it annoyed my employer."

John frowned. "I am not a dog at someone's beck and call."

Athena chuckled. "I believe he is realizing this."

"The second Holmes." John asked but it sounded more like a command.

"Mycroft." Athena supplied.

"How's Mary?" John asked wanting to change the subject because he had a feeling she wouldn't tell him where they were headed.

"She'd good."

"And?"

"Doing just fine."

John settled back in the leather seat. He wanted to spill his worries to her, wanted to ask if the desire to kill was so wrong but he stayed silent. Angry at himself for being a coward. The pulled up to a warehouse, as Athena motioned of him to leave. He got out and raised any eyebrow. Mycroft had set up a tea table and two red leather chairs. The man in question was already sitting up rose up and hurried to pull out the other chair for John. Not willing to sit down for many reasons the main being he was prince not princess, John glared at the thin man who smiled at him.

"Have a seat." It wasn't a question. Why was always the first thing this man said to him? He was crippled but he didn't need to be coddled.

"What is this?"

"When one wishes to avoid the attention of Sherlock one must take special measures."

"For tea? I have a phone, you could have called. On. My. Phone." John supplied as the car fled leaving him alone in a brightly lit warehouse with a tea table and crazy human.

"He's become very loyal to you. Very fast and my brother has many issues so I wanted to see what was so special about you."

John starred up at Mycroft until the man moved away from his chair and went back to his own. Elegantly pouring them both a cup of tea. Earl Grey, it was his absolute favorite and John bet Athena had told Mycroft that. He reluctantly sat down at took the offered cup with a nod. He deeply breathed in the aroma and smiled as he took a sip.

"What do you want to know?"

Mycroft's eyes twinkled over his cup and John shifted not liking the look. Like he was a bunny and Holmes was the wolf. "What makes you tick?"

"My heart." He answered quickly causing Mycroft to chuckle.

"True but what brings a man out of his quite life and into Sherlock's."

"He was the one who assumed I needed a flat mate."

"And do you?" Mycroft purred.

"I would like to be around others. My past involvement with people was only ever professional." John said, which was true, he only ever spoke to the humans to condemn them, not that he enjoyed it.

"Understandable." Mycroft said as they slipped into a comfortable silence.

It was strange sitting at the table with Mycroft sipping on Earl Grey tea in an empty warehouse and John had to suppress a bubble of giggles that threatened to escape his lips. If he thought about it this almost felt like a date. A very odd date but then again he wasn't all that normal and he kinda liked this. It was comfortable and he couldn't recall the last meal he had eaten with anyone other than Mary or Athena.

"Is this a date?" he blurted out and the moment those words left his mouth he wished he could have slapped himself.

Mycroft looked over his tea cup with a sultry smile. "Depends if you want it to be Doctor Watson."

"Just John please."

"John." Mycroft said slowly, tasting the name on his tongue.

Mycroft set his china cup down and laced his fingers together before resting his chin on them. His eyes where dark in the dim lighting and John felt the air from his lungs catch in his throat. He swallowed and took a nervous sip of his tea. Mycroft wasn't intimidating but he made John feel nervous and his stomach to flutter with butterflies. Oh no, No this was not happening to him! John's eyes widened as he continued to stare at Mycroft slowly piecing the puzzle. John panicked and stoop up, knocking over his chair and scrambling away. At least he tried to scramble away but his damn leg decided to cramp at that moment and he tripped. Mycroft was son his feet and walking towards John with a look of concern.

"John!"

John held up his hand to stop the man. "You….you stay over there."

Mycroft frowned as if not understanding but kept his distance none the less. The black car pulled up and John turned heel and ran to it. Opening the door and climbing in before slamming it shut. As the car pulled away he caught a glimpse of Mycroft and his sad longing look at the tea table and toppled chairs.

"Smooth John." Athena stared blankly.

"Shut the hell up. I didn't want that. I can't do this." John snarled running a shaky hand through his hair. Athena ducked behind her smart pnone ashamed she had upset her Prince. "Not...not after last time."

John had sworn he'd never have another. Never endanger another and God Damnit he was going to keep his word. All he needed was to find a heir and get the Hell back to hell before he did anything stupid. His mind betrayed him by replaying Mycroft's sad look. John groaned and hung his head against the cold window. What in God's name was wrong with him?

* * *

><p><em><strong>Thank you for reading!<strong>_

_**Yeah 6 reviews!**_

**Issyapir**- hahah I hadn't thought about Sherlock being Constatine but now that you mention it I kinda like that idea…hum we will see! Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you liked it

**LittleMissDreamer7**- *waves back* Yeahhhhh haha seven is a good number! And thank you I like to think its original too!

**LittleMissDreamer7**- YOU DID 2 reviews I was uber excited! Yeah It's was Brilliant!

**Yuki**- of course of course! COOKIES! Yeah ok so here's the next ch, sorry it took longer!

**Icy Sapphire15**- I think of blue cupcake icing when I see your username and it makes me hungry XD hahah I love that, Yeah John would just shoot him! Ms. Hudson as a fairy I ADORE THAT!

**Serpentrose**- *groan* I hate that too I mean too much power corrupts and distorts a character and John's strong but not invincible! Well thank you very much I'm happy you approve! *bows*I hope it continues to meet your standards!


	7. Chapter 7

_Oops sorry If I confused some people but THIS IS 100% johnlock…...with a tiny bit of johncroft…...but I can't make it easy for them!_

**-‡-****Prince of Hell-****‡-**

**Chapter Seven**

The car dropped him off at 221B Baker Street and John got out before Athena could attempt to speak to him. He knew she'd beat herself up over this but he was too livid to care at the moment. John walked up the stairs to find Sherlock lying on the couch, his fingers steepled under his chin and eyes closed. John heavily dropped into his chair, still shaken up from his visit with the other Holmes. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples to calm his raging headache.

"Fraternizing with the enemy?" Sherlock said, not bothering to open his yes.

John looked up startled, his heart racing before calming. By enemy Sherlock had meant his brother not _him._ John pursed his lips he really didn't want to get in the middle of a sibling quarrel on who got the new toy. He was a Prince of Hell not a new toy. John gripped the armrests and took in several deep breaths before speaking.

"Yes, in fact I had a lovely time."

Sherlock jumped up from the couch, startling John and rolled up his sleeves. On his arm John spotted three nicotine patches. He might not have been a real doctor but he had a suspicion it wasn't healthy to be wearing three at once.

"You smoke?"

Sherlock shook his head, his unruly locks bouncing around. "Helps me think," as he started pacing manically.

John shrugged. It wasn't his body and who was he to care if this strange man drove himself to an early death. His brain continued to work against him by still being worried for Sherlock's health. A battle he knew was a losing one.

"On the desk is a number, text this message exactly_. 'What happened last night, I blacked out? 22 Northumberland Street. Please come.'_" Sherlock commanded.

John ground his teeth in anger, he wasn't this man's servant but what boiled his blood was that he found himself doing as Sherlock commanded. He took out his phone and texted the message to the unknown number. Sherlock bounded forward and pulled a startling pink suitcase from behind his own chair. He unzipped and flipped it open. Grey-green eyes intensely starring into the contents of the luggage bag as if they'd divulge its secrets to him if he looked long enough. John stood in silence glancing from his phone to the suitcase to Sherlock. He looked at the name above the number and felt himself pale.

"Did I just text a dead women's phone? Where did you get that suitcase? Is that hers'?"

Being a Prince of Hell he'd seen many gruesome murders even caused a few of his own but calling a recently dead woman's phone was bad voodoo and John needed all the good karma points he could muster. Sherlock ignored his comment, John wanted to punch his self-righteous face and paint blood upon his lush lips. Wait? Lush lips? Inside his head John Watson started screaming like a mad man and waving his arms in the air. It wasn't bad enough he'd realized his slight attraction to Mycroft, that man was smooth but now Sherlock? The Holmes brothers were to be the death of him. He had to pull himself together. Inner John stopped his screaming and running and sat down into a mediating position. John cleared his mind and breathed through his nose. His first priority was an heir and then he could work out his bazar and startling attractions to the Holmes.

"Going on the fact of pink, it took me less than an hour to find the suitcase abandoned in an alley way that a car could fit through. The rest was simple enough."

John's phone buzzed as a message displayed on the screen. "See you there?" his eyes bulged out of his skull as Sherlock eagerly jumped up from the chair with a winning smile on his face. "Sherlock, did a murderer just text me back?"

"A few hours after his last victim and he just got a text that can only be from her. If it were a regular person they'd ignore it. The murdered would panic. Hungry John? I know a great place to eat."

Again Sherlock ignored him, John had half a mind to grab Sherlock by his collar and slam his lips against the infuriating man's mouth just to shut him up and pay attention to him. Johns face flushed at the thought as he silently stumbled out the door after Sherlock, too embarrassed to even respond. What was wrong with him?

Sherlock led him down the street to a small café. A young Italian man opened the door and Sherlock greeted him with a familiar smile. They were automatically shown an empty tale by the window. The rest of the restraint was full and John found it a bit odd that this single table which was prime spot for a date was left empty. A burly man with a graying mustache and a large friendly smile approached the two.

"Sherlock! Anything on the menu it's on the house, for you and your date."

John opened his mouth to protest but Sherlock shot him down. John was really getting tired of being cut off and ignored.

"John this is Angelo. I proved his innocence during a triple homicide murder by proving he was breaking into a house across London."

"He cleared my name and I didn't go to jail."

"Yea he did."

"But not for as long." The man mumbled before cheering up again. "I'll get a candle for your date."

"I'm not his-.." John sighed as he looked down at the menu with a frown. "Do people normally assume you're the murderer?"

Sherlock shifted, his eyes trained out the window. "Occasionally."

They lapsed into silence as John ordered a plate of pasta. It wasn't an awkward silence but it wasn't all that pleasant. Finally John couldn't take it any longer. "Do you have a girlfriend then?"

"Girlfriend? No, not really my area."

John cursed his heart that sored at that. "Oh so boyfriend?"

Sherlock shot John an unreadable glance. "While I'm flattered at your offer, I'm currently working and you would only cause me a distraction. Ask me later."

John's mouth fell open in surprise. Did he just get hit on? Did Sherlock assume he was asking him out? John stood up abruptly and nodded to the tall man. This was crazy, why was he even here? Dating was not on his list of things to do. He had a job that needed accomplishing. Sherlock barely looked up as John stood up.

"I have other things to do."

"I'll meet you at the flat." He stated.

John frowned again, but didn't respond. Too shocked and confused to even process it as he limped out the café, feeling only slightly guilty he had left Sherlock in their not-Date. John found himself back at 221B. Ms. Hudson rushed forward, her eyes wide with fright.

"It's terrible, they're making a mess."

John felt a dark presence and his mind shut down. He dropped his cane and dashed up the steps, as he kicked the door open and stood frozen in the doorway. Lestrade was lazily sitting in Sherlock chair with an eat-shit grin on his face. Men and women from the Yard where scrounging around the flat, opening draws and cabinets. Anderson was raiding the fridge with more gusto then John felt was truly needed.

"What's going on?"

Lestrade didn't look surprised to see John. "It's a drug's bust."

"Him? Really?"

Lestrade gave John a knowing glance and John quickly looked down at his left hand. Sure enough the words elegantly wrote themselves on his hand. "No," he whispered in disbelief. John shuttered and let the sub-world fall around him, locking the occupants of the room in a dark bubble. Most of the men and women stopped their movements. John wasn't surprised Anderson was still moving but Donovan walked out of Sherlock bedroom, looking confused and startled at her frozen co-workers.

"A blood bond with the living?" John asked with raised eyebrows at Anderson, even Lestrade looked a bit shocked.

Anderson just noticed John and backed up a step as his ears turned a slight pink. John frowned at the man but turned to Sally. "I assume you knew of him, well I'm Prince John Watson," he looked down at his hand. "You would have been mine had you died, for your sins of pride and envy."

Lestrade remained sitting. "What do you want?"

"Leave us alone." John commanded.

"This isn't in your jurisdiction, in fact I found out you didn't even get a permit. You're technically here illegally but because your intentions are pure I've been assigned to watch you."

"Have you ever had tea with Mycroft? He's wonderful company." John said with a pleasant smile.

Lestrade leapt up and growled at the Prince, his eyes flashing white with rage. Sally gasped and edged towards Anderson who had gone from flushed to pale. John raised his hand and shook his finger at the Celestial. "Calm now George. Anger does strange things to your kind."

"Now you're extorting me?" He growled.

"I didn't threaten you. I didn't insult you. I asked a simple question to which you answered perfectly. You're not investigating the Holmes, you're watching Mycroft. How adorable. Did you see him from above and decide he was the one?"

"I heard you sent your own blood bond. I've seen her loyally following behind him, or did she run away from you."

John pursed his lips about to summon his gun. His eyes flicked to Anderson and Donovan, both looked scared and nervous. John looked back at Lestrade and faltered. A white mist was circling the man's legs. A spirit was following the Celestial. John pointed at the mist; Lestrade followed John's fingers and looked down. With a chuckle he bent down and scooped the mist up, cradling the smoke in his arms before it solidified into a baby girl.

"Rachel," he supplied.

John's mind leapt to the dead women and how she had scratch Rachel on the floor with her fingernails. He looked over the baby with sad eyes. The little infant gurgled and reached up with chubby hands to touch the inspectors face as she smiled brightly. Lestrade looked down at her with clear affection. It was the one thing John hated and loved about Hell. They never got any children or infants, because the young where too pure to be punished. Unable to hold the limbo world much long, John felt time catch up with the small group. The baby girl disappeared with the sub-world. Lestrade's face hardened as he let his empty arms drop back to his side.

John looked away from the sad expression on Inspectors face. An officer walked over to Lestrade and handed him a small red tin. He whispered something and Lestrade stiffened, his eyes flickering over to john and then the tin. John walked over and held out his hand for the tin. Lestrade handed it over with a frown. John held his breath and opened it. His face contorted in disgust. Inside was what looked like a voodoo doll nailed onto a woman's heart. The nail went through the dolls heart and twisted around the nails was a lock of black hair; John knew belonged to Sherlock's. The bottom was layered with red rose petals. It was a clear message from _him_.

"You better find him." Lestrade breathed, looking at the doll with horror and repulsion.

John shoved the tin back at the Inspector and dashed out the door without a word. He jogged back to the restraunt. Sherlock wasn't by the window. He burst into the café and spotted Angelo. He made a bee-line for the man and clasped his shoulder. "Where's Sherlock?"

Angelo looked surprised. "He got a cab."

John cursed loudly and ran back outside. He turned in a circle, his eyes searching the crowd. He couldn't get the image of the voodoo doll and heart out of his mind. It wasn't an empty threat. Sherlock was in serious danger, but how did he track the man? John fumbled in his jacket for his cell phone. He dialed Athena's number. She picked up after the second ring, sounding tired and worn out.

"Listen John I can't-."

"I got a message from _him_. Sherlock's in danger. I have to find him now." John hissed into the phone.

"Oh good gods." Athena cursed, John nodded in agreement. This was bad, really really bad. "Did he have his phone on him?"

John scrunched his face in thought. "I think so, he left in a cab."

"I can trace his phone if he still has it on him. Hold on a moment." Athena said as John heard her furiously typing. He waited with baited breath, hoping she could locate him. After a moment she made a triumphant sound. "He's at the college."

"Thanks," John yelled as he snapped his phone shut and hailed a cab of his own. He got in and gave the address, and with shaky hands called the Yard, leaving a message for Lestrade. The cab pulled up to two identical white buildings. John got out and looked at the two. He had to pick one; Sherlock's life depended on it. Left! John sprinted into the left building. He ran through the hallways and checked every room. It was silent and abandoned for the night. On the second floor John spotted Sherlock and another man through the window.

John stopped at the window, his dark blue eyes bulging out of their sockets at Sherlock's stupidly bringing a pill to his mouth. John could smell death from the pills, even from another building. Both were poisoned but only the cabbie would survive because of his daemonic possession. John's teeth ground in anger it was one of his own, a Daemon of wrath, they were especially vicious. Like a cat curls around a leg, the daemon was twisted around the cabbies shoulders whispering smoothly into his ear; tempting him and pushing the man. It was contradictory that Daemons of Wrath whispered soothing words and moved gently but they railed even the calmest man to heights he normally would not have gone.

"Sherlock!" John screamed, reaching out his left hand and throwing all the energy he could manage. The world didn't stop as he had planned but it did considerably slow down. He was spent out from last time. He could feel the earth creeping slowly under his feet. It still wouldn't give him enough time to save the sod and his only option became engaging the sub-limbo which only the 'others' could access and move around in, meaning he still couldn't touch Sherlock. A wide grin spread over his face, but he could kill the cabbie.

The super-slow movement of the world transcended into the sub-limbo and the cabbie froze, the daemon of wrath on his shoulders didn't. Sensing the shift it hissed angrily and looked around. John shook out his right hand with a smirk, his silver gun misting into his waiting hand. He pursed his lips, killing a possessed human wasn't on his list of pleasures but the list of sins on the cabbie was clear; he had killed other innocents. He was a moving target and no one could reprimand him. John took aim and shot. Lifting the sub world seconds before the bullet hit the man.

The cabbie stumbled back, gripping his shoulder in pain as a bullet ripped through his skin. His mind exploded with the screams and sobs of his victims. The innocent people he had condemned to die because he was scared of death. He felt to the floor, John's dark blue eyes watching with cold amusement and satisfaction. The Daemon around the cabbies shoulders shriveled and shrieked out of existence. Sherlock, startled out of his trance dropped the pill to the floor.

John fled the scene, ashamed at his cowardliness but more embarrassed about his self. Being on the surface had made him almost happy to take down that man. He enjoyed in the punishment, almost looking forward to the torture that man would later face. Sirens blared in the distance. John sank to the ground with a huff, bringing his legs up to his chin. He deeply breathed in the night air, the cold stinging his lungs.

"This is wrong."

Lestrade appeared at his side with a raised eyebrow. "What's wrong? You just saved an innocent man's life."

John leapt up. "I need a favor?"

Greg backed up a step, feeling uneasy about this. Only knowing a daemon for a day before it was asking for a favor? That didn't sound promising. "I need to know what it is."

"If I should snap, if I should become like-…" John didn't need to finish his sentence at Lestrade's horrified face. "Take me down."

"J-John." Lestrade stammered this was not what he had been expecting and he really didn't like where this conversation was going.

John took a step forward, holding out his handing hands. "I killed, and it made me happy. Take me down Greg."

Lestrade ran a hand through his short hair, breathing out through his nose. "I can't do that, your too-.."

"My leg." John interrupted. "Attack my leg with your sword it's my weak spot and then when I'm distracted for those slight seconds stab my shoulder. You'd only have about ten seconds but I'm sure a skilled fighter like yourself could manage it. Anywhere else you attack would be too tough. Greg can you do that? Please."

At John's vulnerable and pleading gaze, Lestrade felt his resolve break. The man had just told him how best to murder him should he crack. Greg felt his respect solidify and he knew John held his loyalty and friendship. John Watson wasn't like any other daemon and Lestrade would bet his wings that he would make an excellent King of Hell, too bad the bloke thought himself useless.

"Ok, but only if you are truly gone."

John sighed heavily with relief. "Thank Hades."

Lestrade nodded, turning back to go find Sherlock and have a chat with him. He walked away shaking his head. "You are something else John Watson." He murmured.

John managed to pull himself together; he had only gotten rid of the cabbie not the real threat. If he didn't watch Sherlock who would? A tiny voice in his brain whispered that watching Sherlock was something enjoyable. He stood behind the police line watching Lestrade talk to Sherlock. The tall man looked at him and John knew he knew. With a small smile John nodded. Sherlock broke away from the Inspector and walked over to John.

"I assume your taking the room?"

"Someone needs to look after you." He said with a wide grin.

Sherlock smirked and looked thoroughly pleased with himself. "And you're just the doctor I need."

* * *

><p>Aww super cute! I just had to add the fluff in! <strong>Thanks for reading<strong>. Sorry it took longer than normal!

LittleMissDreamer7- hahaha you make me laugh! I'm thrilled you still like this!

Angeluz66- Kinda both but mainly johnlock

Icy Sapphire15- Neither? Now that would be weird! But Both…kinda. Cheese!

BipolarMolar- Love the username! Very original! Oh wow your favorite! Well I hope it continues to be so! I love to know what you think. Sucks about your internet. Hopefully it'll work better.

Yuki- Im kinda late so does that means my cookies will be burnt? Chocolate CAKE! Hellzyeah!

Phantom- wow long review! Thanks a bunch! I will read that comic thanks, I've never heard of demon orono. I liked your suggestion and I agree but I kinda wanted to kill the cabbie, he's a bad man XP but from now on it's gonna be a bit different! Thanks for the idea!


	8. Chapter 8

_Ok now we're away from study in pink things are gonna go in a different direction. _

**-‡-****Prince of Hell-****‡-**

**Chapter Eight**

"_You're so human," he breathed in, leaning closer so his hot breath tickled the shell of my ear. "So pure and noble. That's what I love about you."_

_I shivered and pushed him away, grimacing as he clutched my hands that pushed against his chest. This wasn't the time and most defiantly not the place for a love confession. We were surrounded by bloodies and blood. The ground slippery and muddied with the life soured of the damned. My trusty sword at the time, now my trusty gun, was slowly dripping blood into a puddle and a man, newly slain lay at my feet still alive. I had kneeled down and offered a short prayer for his soul to be forgiven and then gave him a swift death. _

_James had seen my act and had chosen that moment to profess his 'love,' I had never thought him capable of such an emotion. Sure he was the Prince of Lust and I'd gone a round or two with him- practically everyone had- and he knew his way around a bedroom but love? The thought made me laugh and I had thought he was playing one of his jokes again._

_He clasped my hands gingerly and knelt to the bloody ground, soaking his pants in red. He smiled up at me, as if this was the happiest day of his life. All around us, our men stopped fighting and lowered their weapons. My warriors in red and his in green. James bowed his head to my hands he still had in his firm grasp. I tried to pull away my mind screaming in terror, a smile on his face was never good._

"_You will be mine forever." He purred._

_I looked down at his face twisted in lust and furry. What I had been scared was a proposal had now somehow turned into a threat. I managed to twist my right hand from his grasp. "I belong to no one."_

_James stayed kneeling and smiling up at me, but I knew he was dead serious. "Then I'll kill anyone you ever lay eyes on. I will rip away all you love until there is only me." _

_James stood up and elegantly bowed, kissing my hand and my ring finger. I shuttered when his tongue traced a line of saliva on my ring finger, as if marking me. He let go of my hands with a breathy sigh as if I was his long lost love that he had to sadly depart from and turned on his heels, his dark green cape swirling around him like a snake. My men stood as frozen and stunned as I was while James's men cheered loudly and clasped each other on their backs. For once I was stunned silent and actually fearful of the smaller man._

_The next week he started sending me all my lovers encased in stone with bloody roses. I slowly learned never to love again because James Moriarty would love ripping it from my hands until I was desperate and crawled back to him. But when Athena sent word of Holmes I had started to feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe I could love again; maybe I could gain my confidence back._

**-/-/-/-**

"I saw you started a blog. Which is wonderful because now I can stalk your movements without following you around. Plus I'm bored." Mary moaned over the phone.

John chuckled and glanced at his laptop sitting atop the shared desk in the living room of 221B Baker Street. "Get a job."

"Doing what?"

"Weren't you a governess at one time?"

John could hear her eye roll over the phone. "Yeah in the early Victorian era, but the times have changed."

"Now you're just being difficult." John pointed out, from downstairs he heard the front door open and Sherlock bound up the stairs. "I have to go."

"John, don't leave me." Mary whined.

John chuckled fondly as Sherlock walked into their flat. "I'm not going anywhere, we'll talk later Mary." He snapped the phone closed before Mary could continue to protest and looked up into a pair of stormy gray-green eyes.

The Detectives face was cold and angry as his gloved fingers twitched at his side. In his hand Sherlock carried a small plastic bag. He flung the bag onto the kitchen table and stormed into his room before slamming the door closed. John blinked in surprise, wondering what had angered his flatemate. When he had left half an hour ago he was practically floating on air about something. John stood up and walked over to the table to investigate the bag. Inside where five boxes of Earl Gary tea, his favorite. He smiled gently. He was about to go to Sherlock's door and ask what was wrong when Sally Donovan appeared at the door way with a sour expression, he hadn't heard the door open or any movement on the stairs. She silently held out a black cell phone.

Frowning John walked over to the Blood Bond slave- wondering if Anderson was on the other end too scared to talk to him in person- and took the phone. It was silent on the other end.

"Is this a joke?"

"John Watson." A voice on the other end purred.

John's blood froze as a shiver crept up his spine. He knew that voice well; John glanced at Sally who looked away. "What do you want?"

"Did you like my little gift?"

"That's your idea of a gift? That was sick and twisted." John cried out angrily, just thinking of the voodoo doll and heart. Luckily Lestrade had taken it as 'evidence' and had it locked up at the Yard. John couldn't even stand the thought of it remaining in the flat.

"I'll burn him alive, John. Stay away from Sherlock or I'll deliver his heart to you on a silver platter." The crazy voice sang in a sing-song manner.

John's lips trembled as he ended the call and looked at Sally. Her lips twitched as if she was unsure whether to smile or frown. John's skilled eyes ranked over her body before stepping away in disgust. Andersons Blood Bonding masked her true smell, and without him around her true nature was easy to spot. She reeked of Lust, which meant she belonged to _him._ It figured. John glanced around the small yet cozy flat he shared with Sherlock, thankful the man had been temperamental and stormed into his room. The door was closed and John couldn't hear any movement.

"My lord sends his regard and wishes to invite you to dine with him tonight." She stated formally.

John clenched the phone in his grip; feeling satisfied when it snapped in two and fell from his hands. "Tell him I would rather jump off a building then ever dine with him."

"Dine with him _again,_ you mean." Sally said smugly.

John pointed out the door, with a firm finger. "Get out now, before I send you back to hell where you belong." John took a threatening step forward. "You might think you're so high and mighty for being his messenger but remember you can burn a lot easier then he can."

Sally's dark eyes widened as she backed up and started walking away, even in his cuddly brown jumper John's eyes flared with an inner anger that would rival the pits of hell. John pursed his lips. He didn't enjoy threats and empty threats where just pathetic. He reached out and grabbed her elbow, applying pressure as he leaned forward and whispered in her ear. "I won't give your cover away but if you so much as look at Sherlock again or backstab Lestrade, I will be your personal torturer for the next millennia and I go slow." He let his anger seep through his fingers and burn the imprint of his hand on her arm. Sally yelped and yanked her elbow out his grasp and ran out the door, not even bothering to close it.

Sherlock emerged out of his room, his scarf and jacket missing, but in John's opinion the purple shirt was wonderful enough. "Was that Donovan I heard? Is Anderson here?"

John looked away from Sherlock and down at his hand that gripped air. It felt hot and it felt good. The power he had over her, the fear in her eyes, a deep hunger long suppressed grumbled faintly. John swallowed thickly. This wasn't good. How could he protect Sherlock against himself if he lost control? Unwilling to lie to his friend he looked towards the bag of tea.

"Thanks for getting the tea, we were running low."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth as if he was about to ask John a question before closing his mouth. He turned on his heel and returned to his room without another word. Softly closing his door this time. It was the closest thing John suspected he'd ever get of Sherlock telling him he wasn't upset at him anymore and trusted him to have his own secrets without prying. John smiled softly, it must have taken a lot of self-control for the inquisitive detective not to ask questions or deduce the situation. John glanced down by his feet and sighed at the broken phone. He bend down, picking the parts up and threw them away. His own cell buzzed in his pocket and John pulled it out with a sigh, if it was _him_ he was fully prepared to chuck the device out the window.

_Sherlock's not answering his messages, come quick_

_-Greg_

John raised an eyebrow at the message, Sherlock always checked his phone, it was practically glued to his hand. He glanced over at the closed door and limped over, pausing before respectfully knocking. There wasn't a sound, if he hadn't seen Sherlock walk in the room John would have been positive it was void of any life. The detective didn't respond so John tried calling through the door.

"Lestrade has a new case."

Still nothing, John frowned in worry. Was Sherlock ignoring him? He couldn't have fallen asleep that quickly? For a brief moment John wondered if Sherlock climbed out his window, which sounded funny but wasn't something John couldn't see the man doing. Sherlock may have been the most brilliant human being John had ever met in his many years of existence but sometimes that man was worse than a hormonal teenager.

"Sherlock?" John called again and was again met in silence. He was about to open the door and check on his friend, when the door suddenly flew open, smacking him in the face. John stumbled back in surprise, clutching his nose as he hissed in pain and looked up through squinted eyes.

Sherlock was wearing his coat and scarf, his face masked in indifference. He gazed down at his shorter friend, but didn't move a muscle to assist John. "John you call me and then aren't ready yourself. The world doesn't wait for you."

Still holding his nose and hopping it wouldn't start gushing blood John glared up at Sherlock. The lanky man had to have known he was at the door and that if he opened it John would be hit. Conclusion; Sherlock planned to injure John and then pretended as if nothing happened. John envisioned himself punching the self-righteous bastard which helped ease his anger, slightly. Sherlock nodded and walked out the door, expecting John to follow behind as usual. Having lived together for four months had made them fall into a routine, Kohn now craved.

"Why didn't you answer Lestrade's message?" John asked behind his right hand as his left fumbled around with his jacket and he followed Sherlock down the stairs.

Sherlock ignored John's question as they walked out into the street and the tall man hailed a taxi. A black cab imminently pulled up and the two climbed in. Sherlock giving the cabbie an address, so he had read Lestrade's text message. Probably waiting for John to announce it to him. John once again imagined violence towards his friend and felt a bit guilty that he now associated Sherlock with earth shattering kisses and black eyes from punches.

"While having a relationship is fine, I am requesting you don't bring your conquests to the flat. It will interfere with my experiments. I'd also like to avoid crying women at our doorsteps when you move on." Sherlock announced out of the blue.

John's head snapped to the right, jerking himself out of his own musings. Where in God's name did that come from? He wasn't dating anyone, especially a women; he thought that Sherlock knew that, hell the man spent almost every waking hour in his presence. Then it hit him, and John had to school his face into a mask so he wouldn't burst into laughter at the serious expression on Sherlock's face. The detective must have assumed he was dating Mary. It never occurred to him that he's never mentioned her. John was tempted to just fess up and tell Sherlock but decided against it. Best let him pout.

"Next time I seduce a woman I'll keep your advice in mind." John purred leaning forward in the cab, his breath ghosting along Sherlock's ear.

Sherlock stiffened as if he'd been struck by lightning. John couldn't resist the light chuckle that escaped his lips. He backed away from his friend about to apologize for making him uncomfortable when he saw the faint blush spreading over the taller man's face. Sherlock tried to turn his face away so John wouldn't see him flustered but it didn't work. The apology died in John's throat as an idea flashed in his mind. So when he got close to and flirted with the detective he got quiet and flustered? Well this was an interesting turn of events and now John had a full proof plan.

The cabbie pulled up to a park, taped off and surrounded by cop cars as Sherlock dashed out of the cab not even waiting for John as he normally did. John nodded to the cabbie and slowly followed behind his manic friend. At the police line Sally silently lifted the tape, allowing John access as she averted her eyes. He hissed at her as he passed. John walked up to Lestrade and Sherlock heatedly talking, and they grew silent as he approached. John frowned and raised an eyebrow. Sherlock shifted and looked behind him.

"I'll go check out the crime." He said with false cheeriness, which was strange because Sherlock loved murder.

John let his friend go. He turned to Lestrade, just waiting for an answer. The celestial scratched his head and also looked away. "Ok I get the hint, ignore the daemon. We're all just evil entities trying to corrupt the world." John exploded on Lestrade.

He turned on his heel. He wasn't sure if he was angry, or relieved that Sherlock didn't want him anymore. At least now the man would be safe. At the police line Sally looked smugly happy as she once again lifted the yellow tape for him, giving a small mock bow. He wondered along the streets aimlessly just blowing off steam. The humans, as usual, gave him plenty of space and avoided him like the plague. A thought struck John that had him grounded in place. Had Lestrade told Sherlock? Why did he care? Why did the thought of Sherlock with Lestrade make his blood boil? Had Lestrade claimed Sherlock? Didn't he have a crush on Mycroft? What about him, wouldn't it be better to let the two men go? John hung his head and leaned against a brick wall. He couldn't and he hated himself for being so selfish. Only a few months of Sherlock's constant company and John couldn't; imagine life without him. He was a breath of fresh air. He growled at the thought of the lanky man with another before a thought invaded his mind and shook him to the core. He was acting just like James.

John shook his head. No he wouldn't do that. John took a deep breath, clearing his mind. He was here to look for the next heir and he should care about that only. John considered his two options. Sherlock was brash and childish while what he could get was Mycroft was analytical and closed off. Both were brilliant and cunning, but in the end Mycroft seemed his best candidate and if he thought about it Sherlock was Lestrade's best candidate; the man was so pure and open.

The red phone booth across from where he stood rang, interrupting his thoughts. John smiled. Speak of the devil. He limped over and walked in picking up the phone. "Hello."

"Care for a lift." Mycroft said with a smile as a black car pulled up next to the phone booth.

John smiled widely and left the booth, the phone hanging from its hook and walked over to the car. Mycroft opened the door and stepped out with a flourish. Athena was absent but John was ok with that. He slid into the back leather seats and ginned back at Mycroft as the car started up.

"I apologize for my brothers behaviors." Mycroft said with genuine sadness.

John shook his head, actually understanding where the man was coming from. He often felt the need to apologize on Harry's behalf. Mycroft continued on. "I should have suspected he'd go tried of me."

Mycroft narrowed his eyes and crossed his legs. "On the contrary he's grown closer to you, I know my brother and he's just acting like a child."

John absorbed that bit of information and felt his stomach loosen in knots. In truth he didn't want to leave Sherlock and his possessiveness was scaring him. Would he commit acts of violence on innocent victims when Sherlock refused him? Would he finally snap and give into the bloodlust that always lingered on the edge of his mind, wanting to consume him in blood and darkness. Turn him into the monster he had become. Mycroft interrupted his musing once more.

"Athea told me you needed to talk."

John raised an eyebrow at the name but let it slide. He was grateful for his assistant who knew his mind before he even made it up. John took a deep breath and turned giving Mycroft his full attention. The small cabin of the black car felt warm as John slowly oozed his demonic presence to get the human used to the feel.

"We're both business men and I have a once in a lifetime proposition for you."

Mycroft shifted slight, something John contributed to the increase in his energy, but didn't seem to uncomfortable but instead intrigued. "I'm listening."

"Mycroft you are not as innocent and pure as your younger brother, which is why I think you protect him so much, so that what little light of good you think you still possess will stay with him."

Mycroft nodded his eyes glazed over as if in a daze. "Yes."

John held out his hand and traced the counter clockwise circle, the sins of the man in front of him elegantly writing themselves on his hand. There were so many, John could feel the writing on his arm and shoulder. He held his hand up to Mycroft, whose lips had fallen open in shock and amazement.

"How would you like to make a deal with the devil?"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>_

LittleMissDreamer7-You flatter my ego to heights that scare me! WoW I'm just so thrilled you like this sooo much that truly makes me very happy! The best ever? Hahah thanks

Icy Sapphire15- illogical mystrade….I totally agree and I don't know why but they just….fit so well. It's totally strange!

Yuki- Awwww…well I corrected that! Yeahhhhhh

Phantom- oh that ok! Thanks for the manga I really like it…..and OMG she's part angel…..soo cool! Oh John's reaction….I see well I will better explain it in the next chapter. I don't see him as a pansy either just one who doesn't want to go graze with bloodlust. Hahaha twilight- is a joke! No no I loved the negative feedback and ..if that's your view of negative WoW ur a super nice person cause that was just uber helpful. I hope this chapter is better for you.


	9. Chapter 9

**Beware next chapter will be Dark and twisted…..just be warned! I also apologize if this ch is a bit boring!**

**-‡-****Prince of Hell-****‡-**

**Chapter Nine**

Mycroft frowned at John. "Make a deal with the devil? Surely doctor you know I am considered a monster by many men." Mycroft's eyes slid to John's hand and his lips trembled. "I would like to know who you performed that lovely trick."

John took a deep breath and leaned forward in the car, invading Mycroft's personal space, undeterred by his skeptism. "What must it be like in your funny little brain, to be constricted by your human laws of logical and illogical, wouldn't you like to break free of that?"

Mycroft shifted as his pupils dilated. "Next you'll tell me that Scotland Yard is full of Angels."

"Only Lestrade." John purred.

"Why me?"

John sat back and rubbed knee in thought. "I'm crippled and useless at the moment and we need fresh blood. Someone who will judge fairly, oh don't worry I can have all your human emotions stripped so you won't be clouded by them. It's the persons soul that matters, and I want yours." John grinned toothily.

Mycroft prided himself on many things and keeping calm in any situation was once of them, so when he started to panic he knew something was wrong. John no longer looked like the kindly doctor he had been observing these past months, the man had transcended past the human plane and seemed almost surreal. His normal blue eyes had darkened impossibly to where they resembled the night sky flecked with stars. Mycroft wanted to be lost in those eyes, and the proposition to be more that he is now, to know far more than any other human was tempting, but then again he should tread lightly, he was dealing with a devil now.

"What about Sherlock? Why not ask him?" Mycroft voiced the only question holding him back

John smiled, knowing he had won. "A pure heart wouldn't be wise on a throne of Hell, especially mine of Wrath, Envy and Pride, but you know all about those don't you?" John purred.

Mycroft's eyes where wide with shock and want. "Y-y-yes." He stuttered.

John grinned widely. "Yes what?"

"I'll give you soul. I'll make a deal with the devil." Mycroft said almost having difficulty saying the words since his mouth had gone dry and his jaw was cramping. It was almost like his body was physically trying to stop him from making the deal.

John held out his hand, so that Mycroft had to reach out and take it. The moment Mycroft clasped his hand, John's inner daemon exploded and the small car was filled with his dark presence. John could no longer contain his human form. Mycroft looked down at the floating hand, which was all that was left of human John, still holding on to his hand. Where they touched his skin burned as if seared by a hot iron. The hand slowly dissolved into the black ness all around him and then John reappeared in his human state, grinning like a cat with his arms crossed smugly over his chest.

"It is complete."

Mycroft blinked, he had expected more flair, his soul to be ripped from his body through his mouth or at least a strike of lightening. Not that John dissolving into blackness and enveloping him in darkness wasn't dramatic enough just not at terrifying as he had assumed a soul transfusion would be. Although his right hand hurt but when he examined it, the skin looked unblemished as always.

"That wasn't what I had expected."

John rolled his eyes as the car pulled to a stop. "We can't all have the flair that is genetically a Holmes trait."

John stepped out and walked over to Mycroft's side and opened his new heir's door. They were at Mycroft's house, which was bright white with flowers outside each window. Athena stood at the doorway with a wide smile. She bowed deeply as the two passed her and opened the door. John walked in like he owned the place and wasn't surprised to find Mary in the sitting room, Mycroft was.

"Who's that?" He hissed to Athena, who only smiled in returned and went to stand by John.

John sat on Mycroft's plain white couch in the middle of the lavishly furnished yet simple living room and motioned to a seat across from him, Mycroft was so stunned he did as ordered and sat. His own assistant was ignoring him for John, and the way John was behaving was making the human nervous. So used to always being in complete control it was almost a relief and fucking terrifying that someone else had more power and authority than him. How had he ever thought the doctor simply human? He was more, much more.

"Mycroft I'd like you to meet my Blood Bonds, which will be further explained at a later hour. Mary and you already know Athena." Both girls inclined their head respectfully.

His mind completely blow away, Mycroft remained silent. John sighed and crossed his legs. He had thought since Mycroft was so utterly brilliant the man would be more accepting but apparently he'd gotten that wrong. Athena moved to stand behind John's left shoulder as Mary moved to his right. John waved his hand in the air and his silver tipped ornate cane materialized from black smoke. Mycroft's eyes widened to an impossible width, and John was almost afraid the man's eyeballs would pop out.

"Let me start then. I will not take you to Hell with me, not for a while. I won't train you that will be Athena's job, one of the many reasons I told her to come up here. Yes I've had you followed for five years, yes this is real and yes you will get demonic powers; however, what they are depends on you and your determination." John paused and drummed his fingers against his cane. "I will visit you from time to time to slowly infuse you with darkness and no I'm not going to take your soul, you need that. Even I have a soul. Any questions?"

Mycroft opened his mouth and then closed it. John clapped his hands and stood up. "Well then I shall take my leave, you know how to reach me." He turned to his girls. "Treat him well and make me proud." John said as he walked out.

Mary and Athena grinned madly and nodded happily. John left Mycroft sitting stunned on his couch and journeyed back to the car. He gave the address of 221B Baker Street. The ride was uneventful and John allowed himself to relax. He was exhausted after his transfusion to Mycroft. He somehow managed to drag himself from the soft car and up the steps. He never made it to his bed but flopped onto the couch and fell asleep.

-/-/-/-/-/-

"John…John…John," someone called poking his head.

John woke up and looked up through blurred eyes. Sherlock was hovering over him and frowning deeply like John was a science experiment and he wasn't sure what to start dissecting. John yawned sleepily and sat up. Sherlock backed up to give his flatemate room but remained towering over the smaller man. John looked down at himself and felt puzzled; he hadn't put a blanket over himself before he went to sleep, so how had it gotten there?

"John it's almost midnight and you've ruined my plans."

John blinked up at his friend, his mind still languid with sleep. "What?"

Sherlock sighed as if John had missed the big picture and started to pace. "I had it perfectly planned to a tee until you had the bright idea to disappear. I should have never trusted Lestrade; he's a moron to have let you walked away."

Sherlock's words made John even more confused. What in hells name was that man talking about. "Again, What?"

Sherlock whirled on his friend, mouth open to stay something when he closed it and fell silent. The tall man looked around the flat and sheepishly held out his hands. "Happy Birthday."

John's mind went blank, what? It wasn't his birthday, he thought, he would have remembered. Maybe? John craned his neck to look at the calendar in the kitchen and his face went pale. Sherlock was close but off by a week. Which meant James had to be planning something too. In Hell John's Birthday should have been a time of celebration but instead it had turned to one of fear and terror. James thought john should have massacres and fights on his birthday to celebrate the day the great Prince of Wrath came into 'this miserable world' as he called it. John sat up and rubbed his head but managed a smile in Sherlock's direction.

"Thanks, but my birthday's next week. Right day wrong week."

Sherlock sighed with relief. "Oh."

"But that was nice of you."

Sherlock nodded and his eyes glazed over in thought. "You're not excited about your birth."

John scoffed. "Do you celebrate your birthday?" He doubted it, Sherlock didn't seem like-.

"Of course I do. I go visit mummy and allow Mycroft to see me." Sherlock defended.

John looked away from Sherlock who was still standing and lowered his eyes to the floor. It was odd to think of the Sociopath celebrating his birthday but somehow John thought it fit. It brought a smile to his face that Sherlock had even planned anything for him and had also included Lestrade. Sherlock started pacing again.

"John I'd like-.." Sherlock started to say.

Loud footsteps bounding on the stairs interrupted the man and both turned to watch Lestrade rush into the room. "You need to see this?"

"I just solved-.."

"No this is new and you _both_ want to see this." Lestrade said emphasizing both, which peeked Sherlock's interest. The detective started muttering under his breath, deducting why John would need to see anything.

John stood up from the couch, suppressing a groan. He felt ready to collapse but knew he needed to act normal. Sherlock rushed out the door, past Lestrade, to secure them a taxi as John slowly ventured down the steps Lestrade trailing behind him.

"Why do I need to see this?" He asked, really not wanting to know. Midnight was daemon territory, not a good time for him to be out, especially partially drained.

"I haven't seen something this horrific since the witch trials." Greg admitted, rubbing his neck wearily and showing his true age.

"Bit not good?"

Greg chuckled bitterly. "You're the Great Prince of Wrath who's slaughtered hordes of daemons but I still expect you to be uneasy."

John took in a shuttering breath, that was horrible and he had a good idea what it might be. Lord help them all

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>

Yuki- late again..but Im glad u liked it this chap is kinda boring (I thing) next will be better

Wolf-demon39- Yeah I hate those untouchable characters and John's BAMF but still has his limits

Icy Sapphire15-HAhahah because buying one tea is a reason not to leave him….I love that logic

Issyapir- ohh I hadn't thought who is on top but I'd think…umm both..kinda…. EPIC BAMF John next chapter-ish

RedBrickandIvy-Awww I'm soo glad you like this..sorry this part is a bid dull but its like a bridge to the action

A fan- OH noes a spelling error…..oops I hadn't noticed thanks for telling me

LittleMissDreamer7- Ahahahaha ur reviews make me smile and happy…..I hope the suspense doesn't really kill you.. OH gods I miss you!

* * *

><p>7 reviews made me excited so here's a Sneak peek on ch10 (<strong>warning<strong>- a bit gross and twisted)

_The first thing John's shocked brain registered was the odor, the small dark room smelled like rust and mold. The second was that the victim – their gender almost unrecognizable- was hung from the ceiling by their wrists and their feet chained to the floor with rusty chains. It was a form of confinement popular in Hell. The victim was naked but it wasn't noticeable through the bruises, cuts, blood and –John shuttered-tattooed hearts on their skin. They were positioned neatly in the middle of a giant heart with an arrow through it on the middle of the floor. John bet the heart was drawn in the humans own blood. The most terrifying part was what had been written on the wall, on either side of the hanging corpse 'Happy Birthday.' John thought he'd throw up, while Sherlock looked excited like it was his birthday present._


	10. Chapter 10

_Making out at a crime scene= eternal love….or is that a grave yard!_

**-‡-****Prince of Hell-****‡-**

**Chapter Ten**

A twenty minute silent cab ride where Sherlock buzzed with deductions, trying to figure out why John was specially requested for this particular crime scene, was driving John madder then he already was and it took every bit of self-restrain he possessed not to glamor the handsome man and make him forget. John distracted himself by looking out the cab into the dark night flecked with bright neon lights. Sherlock had a few theories but none he thought where accurate, the most solid one, the manic man could deduce where Lestrade and John had met before and Lestrade knew something he didn't which was aggravating. A previous meeting would explain the tension he had detected on their first official meeting in Sherlock's presence, but left him wondering how they were acquainted. He also didn't bother asking John because the ex-army doctor's posture and tight lips told him he wouldn't answer any questions, which was infuriating.

The cab pulled up to a small building at the edge of the river. The moon was peeking over the roof as Sherlock and John entered the taped off abandoned building. Sherlock caught John's snarl as they silent passed by Sally Donovan who looked down and shuffled away not even making a single comment in his direction. Greg met them at the front door and led them down a hallway and down a flight of stairs to a door. Around the old handle a single heart had been drawn around it. John's face paled and Sherlock was partly worried his friend would pass out, he imagined catching the shorter man would be satisfying and was slightly put out John didn't faint into his arms.

"Brace yourselves." Greg warned as he opened a small wooden door into a dark cell.

The first thing John noticed was the odor, the small dark room smelled like rust and mold. The second was that the victim – their gender almost unrecognizable- was hung from the ceiling by their wrists and their feet chained to the floor with rusty chains. It was a form of confinement popular in Hell. The victim was naked but it wasn't noticeable through the bruises, cuts, blood and –John shuttered-tattooed hearts on their skin. They were positioned neatly in the middle of a giant heart with an arrow through it on the middle of the floor. John bet the heart was drawn in the humans own blood. The most terrifying part was what had been written on the wall, on either side of the hanging corpse 'Happy Birthday.'

John thought he'd throw up,_while Sherlock looked excited like it was his birthday present__._

_"Oh good lord," John cursed, having to avert his eyes, barely able to keep his composure._

_Sherlock lightly tip-toed around the hanging body, his hawk eyes flickering around the room and picking up every detail, this crime was so well constructed Sherlock knew their wouldn't be a single speck of evidence. The torturer was meticulous. John stood in the doorway gripping the frame with shaky hands, his mouth open in horror. Lestrade was correct it was gruesome and frankly quite barbaric. Sherlock could tell the girl had been beaten to death several times and left naked and alone for weeks. Her torture and personal hell had been ruff and terrible. She had untimely died screaming because her captor wouldn't properly nourish her but there where the signs the predator had fed her, her own blood to keep her nurtured during her suffering. Even Sherlock had to admit it was quite sick and twisted._

_The detective looked back at the door where Lestrade hooved around John, both men looked at him hopefully as if they wished him to announce the opposite of what was staring them in their faces. Sherlock paused, he didn't like the pained looks but he wasn't one to lie nor would he start sugar coating anything. His ever helpful brain supplied a picture of John collapsing into his open arms, Sherlock quivered in hope._

_"Female age 26 to 30, left handed and needed glasses. She died two days ago. She's been locked in here for about two weeks and was force fed her own blood to stay alive. The lashings and mutilations on her body say she wasn't raped just beaten. The weapon was made of leather and long but not a whip. You know the perpetrator." Sherlock said looking straight at John._

_John didn't look away, as Sherlock had thought; the shorter man grimly raised a shaky hand to written greeting. "That obvious?"_

_"Your breathing became labored the moment you saw the heart on the door handle and only increased as we entered the room. You're showing the signs of shock." Sherlock said as he stalked closer to John and stood inches from his friend, looking down at the shorter man with worry and concern. Fighting the temptation to latch onto John's stubborn lips and never let go._

_John looked up into the gray-green eyes staring down into his face as his fingers twitched to lace themselves through Sherlock's curly black hair and bring those lush lips to his. The distance sounds of the police sirens died away and the horrors of the room faded into the black backdrop as his entire world was filled with Sherlock. He wanted to run his fingers against that pale skin and yank off his friend's tight shirt that gave him vivid images that left the Prince only wanting more. John saw himself toppling kingdoms and fighting tooth and nail to just remain in the handsome man's presence. Even the thought of the taller man bedding another brought John's hellish wrath. Sherlock had trapped him and the sad part was the human probably didn't even know. He closed his eyes and looked away._

_It wouldn't work anyway and besides he had Mycroft. The thought of his heir remained John of Lestrade._

_ It wasn't right to have those thoughts at a crime scene but John could have sworn he saw his own lust mirrored in the detective's deep eyes. Lestrade turned his head and coughed, Sherlock glared at the Detective Inspector before whipping out his cell phone and taking numerous pictures. Satisfied at his horrific photos Sherlock brushed past John making sure to stroke his shoulder against the other man's who shuttered at the touch. Sherlock confidently walked out of the house with a slight bounce in his step, so his other theories where spot on; John did have a thing for him. Now he just needed to find out how deep._

_John limped out of the house his head bent low as he whispered to Lestrade. Sherlock strained his ears to listen in, while appearing to watch for a taxi. Willing to admit only to himself he was jealous of their closeness and peeved John was keeping secrets from him._

_"…..this isn't a game Watson….fragile….." Lestrade hissed._

_John looked uncomfortable and glanced at Sherlock. Said detective knew they were talking about him from that action. "I couldn't if I wanted to….special to me….rip through hell…..kill him."_

_Lestrade sighed and ran a hand through his white hair and shook his head sadly. Unknown to the two men, Sherlock puffed up, he was special to John who claimed he'd 'rip through hell' for him, but who was he going to murder? Obviously, the man who tortured the girl for a birthday present, who displayed narcissistic and delusional tendencies thinking John would like such a thing for his birthday. Sherlock knew he'd like a quiet night out eating dinner and then a quick run through the streets of London chasing a criminal and if Sherlock's timing was right, and it normally was, he'd have John riding on an adrenaline and endorphin high which would insure his success at ensnaring the captain._

_As Sherlock contemplated his ensnarement plan he lost focused on the two men. John leaned forward towards Lestrade. "I took him Greg."_

_St. George ruffled and had his giant wings been present John knew they would have unfurled in fury. The man's face was utterly livid. "I told you-."_

_"Mycroft was never your goal," John replied smoothly, having century's worth of practice to deal with the wrath of others. "It's almost poetically sad how we lust for the brother that our enemy wishes to take as their heir." _

_Lestrade ground his teeth and glared at John, but surprisingly didn't move to punch him, or even threaten him. He looked utterly defeated. "Just watch out for him, keep him safe."_

_"He will not die in my care." John promised, Lestrade reached out and clasped John's uninjured shoulder giving it a tight squeeze before letting go and walking back into the house with heavy shoulders._

_John walked away from Lestrade with tight lips, standing next to Sherlock in the dark night as a taxi smoothly pulled up next to the two awaiting men. They climbed in as Sherlock gave the address home._

_Sherlock argued with himself for a good ten minutes before his mouth won and he spoke. "Who's the present from?"_

_John stiffened and sharply turned to look out the window his mood plummeting. He stayed silent not trusting himself not to spill his life story and secrets into Sherlock lap. Still unsure how the younger Holmes would take the discovery of Hellions and his position as the Prince of Hell. The one thing he didn't want was to run off the detective, so he stayed silent although it killed him to do so. Sherlock took the silence as a hint and started deducting what he could hoping that maybe John would slip up and agree with something._

_"Your instant reaction shows a close personal relationship that's heavily strained. Not a brother or cousin, no too close. Past lover?" _

_John winced at the word almost turning around and snapping at the human that James was not his past anything. The thought of the other monarch brought such feeling of rage in him he wanted to pummel someone until they stopped moving. The cab pulled up to Baker Street and for once John was the first to bolt out of the cab, leaving Sherlock in his wake. His limp barely hindered his rush to his room._

_Sherlock entered the kitchen as John's door slammed shut. His mouth twitched, shouldn't he be the one throwing a tantrum? He was the one that was livid John had a past lover, had slept with anyone. Logically he also realized that meant John was gay, since the homicidal maniac was male and thus John slept with men. But it didn't explain why he was acting so out of character. John was kind, smart, and patient. Something was amiss and it had everything to do with this lover. Sherlock deposited his coat and scarf over a chair and climbed up the steps to john's room. Normally he would have just walked in, but what little social etiquette he actually kept with him, told him to knock just this once._

_"John?"_

_No answer. Sherlock straightened up. "I understand if you're distressed at the thought of your past lover. From the evidence he's clearly an egotistical, domineering raging psychopath with a fetish for hearts. Staying in a relationship with a man like that would have been unhealthy."_

_From inside Sherlock could faintly hear John bitterly chuckling as bed springs moved and john softly padded tot eh door but didn't open it. "Someone just left me a dead body as a birthday gift and you're telling me it's ok to be distressed? Shouldn't you'd be squealing that it's Christmas and how happy you are?"_

_Sherlock blinked, when put that way it did seem unusually out of character for him. Almost comforting. "I do not squeal. That's only reserved for pre-pubescent girls and their idol crushes."_

_John opened his door with a sad smile, looking up into the concerned eyes of his friend. Sherlock took a step forward and reached out to lean against the door frame, his taller body shadowing John's in the shadowy hallway, in John's neat room a desk lamp softly illuminated his living courters. The good doctor had shed out of his usual jumper and was just wearing a thin under shirt, Sherlock fingers itched to pull it off the stockier man._

_"You're a squealer." John said huskily._

_Sherlock smirked as his eyes narrowed lazily. "There's only one way to confirm your hypothesis."_

_John mirrored Sherlock's grin, leaning forward until their noses almost touched. His warm breath tickling Sherlock's lips and sending warmth to his lower regions. "I think an experiment in is order."_

_Sherlock eyes flitted past Johns shoulder and into the ex-army doctors neat bedroom scares of any personal artifacts. "Which calls for imminent action before the data becomes tainted." Sherlock said rolling his tongue seductively at the word tainted. _

_John shivered as his hand reached out to cup Sherlock's cheek, angling them and slowly pulling the detective closer. Their lips a breath a part. Sherlock's eyes fluttered, his long lashes tickling John's cheeks and making him groan with need. _

_"John." Sherlock whispered against his lips and the word spoke everything the taller man couldn't. His need. His desire. His love. His devotion. His awe._

_John almost threw him against the wall and took him right there. His other hand fisted in the detectives tight shirt, revealing two perk nipples. Sherlock threaded his free had not leaning against the door way into John's hair, rubbing the back of the smaller man's neck._

_They were leaning in about to seal the deal when John's phone blared from his pocket. Sherlock ignored the device, like he normally did and continued to move forward to capture those sinful lips which were rightfully now his. John moved away and reached into his pocket answering the phone, much to Sherlock's irritation. The conversation was quick and whispered. John quickly ended it and Sherlock was expecting to pick off where they had been rudely interrupted. Instead John bit his lip and rushed past Sherlock without a word, his fingertips lightly tracing along the detectives tone chest silently promising more later before rushing down the stairs and out into the night. For once leaving Sherlock baffled and in the dark._

_-/-/-/-/-/_

John arrived at Mycroft's house after he jogged the entire way, not sure of his self-control to be alone with a human in a small cab. He threw open the door and walked into the front room. May's frantic call had his nerves on the fritz and it was worse than minutes ago when she had called. Apparently the three had been in Mycroft's front room enjoying each other's company and talking when the man had started stuttering before he began clutching at his chest and gasping for air. Now he was in a full blown attack. John was afraid the darkness would be rejected from the human's body.

"John you have to purge him," Mary cried as she wrung the end of her dress in her hands as she watched Mycroft writhing on the couch.

John bit his lip and swore loudly; backing up until his back hit the wall. He didn't want to kill his heir, he wanted him to live. A beating heart would benefit Hell and the kingdom of Wrath. A dead heir was no good to him and the thought of taking the man's life sent chills down his spine, Mycroft shared the same blood as Sherlock and he wouldn't dream of murdering a Holmes.

"I-I can't."

"The hell you can't, you coward," Athena screamed as she held down the man's shoulders as his body started to convulse.

His blood bonds looked at him like he was a monster for not killing Mycroft but John was more afraid that killing the human would turn him into a beast. He knew of his own bloodlust. How it felt to hold another heart as the organ slowly stopped pumping the red life source and grew cold in his hands. He knew the look of death as the light died in an enemy's eyes. John swallowed hard as he gazed upon his chosen, the man convulsed uncontrollable and reached for nothing while choking on his own saliva and screaming silently. Greg would be devastated after only promising to keep the human alive a hours ago.

"He'll never be the same." John said quietly.

"There no time for your philosophical bullshit." Athena snarled angrily but her dark eyes never leaving the humans pained face.

"I made a promise I wouldn't let him die." John continued, looking to Mary praying she would sympathize with his plight.

Her eyes were hard and cold. "He's dead regardless, but you can keep him. Purge him, John don't let him slip away from us."

John's face hardened as his body stiffened and the air became stale and still. Mary relaxed slightly as Athena reluctantly removed herself from her former boss and stepped away from the couch. John's blue eyes darkened until his eyes were black. The darkness consumed him as thin tendrils of the blackness snaked out from his eyes, across his face and down his neck to disappear under his clothes. The black veins on his skin pulsed with the rhythm of his heart gathering energy from the surrounding area and draining his blood bonds. Slowly John reached out with his left hand, hovering above Mycroft's body. The man stilled and stopped moving, falling back on the couch like a limp doll.

John let his dark essence slither out of his soul and entangle around the human's limp frame. The tendrils pulling the politician to the floor and holding him up in a kneeling position with his head tilted upwards. John's eye twitched for just a millisecond, the only indicator he hated his actions before his face smoothed over into indifference. With black tendrils holding down Mycroft John stepped forward and reached his hand towards the human's mouth. His hands absolutely steady John pried open Mycroft's mouth with his fingers and proceeded to push his hand into the man's throat. Had the politician been conscious or even remotely aware he would have started gagging and suffocating. The body involuntarily reacted but the man remained unconscious. John forced his hands to move down the small esophagus down towards the heart. With most of his arm now in Mycroft's throat John let the limbo world fall upon them like a dark cloak of darkness. Unlike all the other times the human didn't freeze with the still realm but instead continued squirming on the floor bound by John's dark tendrils. Mycroft shone with the light of a small sun but cracks of darkness had started to appear around him, from where John had poisoned him with his own evilness. The center of Mycroft's light and the only part untouched with darkness was the small white orb where his heart was located.

With practiced precision John forced his entire arm into Mycroft's body and clenched his fingers around the orb. The object was warm ad fluttery like a heart. John hissed as the light burnt his skin. He put his other hand on the humans shoulder to steady him as he yanked the orb from inside Mycroft's chest as he shoved the man to the ground, his arm pulling out of the human with a soft wet pop. The limbo dissolved as Mary and Athena rushed to Mycroft's limp body, a single trail of blood leaking from his lips. John looked at the orb fluttering dimly in his hands, he didn't have to look to know when Mycroft died, he felt the orb grow cold and still. The only light John could manage to salvage from his current situation of murder was that he left the human his heart, although it'd never beat again, the organ still firmly rested in his chest.

"I have taken you from your caged resting place and invite you to be fully devoured by the darkness you agreed to be a part of." John stated the mandatory words.

The blonde prince brought the orb to his lips, seductively licking the dull ball in his hands before pushing it into his mouth. He hummed in content and happiness as his body absorbed the soul, consuming the white being into his blacked void. His skin purred contently and he felt his power increase. There was truth that daemons grew stronger when they devoured human souls. From his crumbled position on the floor Mycroft groaned loudly. John quickly dropped to one knee, joining his bond mates on the floor to hover over the no-longer-human-newly-made-hellion. Mycroft sat up slowly rubbing his chest and looking thoroughly rumpled, as if she'd just had a good shag instead of his soul being eaten.

"I assume I'm no longer human, since I cannot feel the temperature and my heart's no longer pumping blood."

John chuckled and circled his arm around the thin man's shoulder, suddenly feeling like the parent caring for his young son. "You're now a new daemon of Hell, my heir."

Athena beamed at Mycroft reaching out a hand which Mary look with an equally happy grin. "Prince Mycroft we are humbly in your service." They chorused.

A shadow from outside swiftly moved away, reflected in the streetlamp outside the thinly veiled windows of the front room. John didn't have to stand up, he knew that shadow it was engrained in his conscious memories. He had been so absorbed with Mycroft he hadn't checked for watcher and Sherlock had been peeping outside. John could only silently prayed the detective thought he was tripping or hallucinating. Because explaining to your friend who you constantly lusted over that you just ate his brother's soul and are in fate a centuries old Prince of Hell was not a conversation John was ready to have yet.

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><p><em><strong>OH NO WHAT WILL LESTRADE THINK! AND SHERLOCK!...I'm a bit uncertain about this chapter and SORRY this took so long My twin sister came back from the army!<strong>_

**Thanks for reading!**

Faith Robin- you addicted to one of my stories! YEAH my life is now complete

Yuki- AWWW thanks for reviewing…..James did bad bad things XD

Icy Sapphire15- OF course money always equals love and the more you buy the stronger your love is LOL! Moriarty is everyone's dirty little secret!

Alexandra198- Thanks for reviewing and I'm glad you like a BAMF John Me Too!

Aku11- Sherlock as Death? Humm well the thought hadn't occurred to me but I like where that could go...I'm going to contemplate this! I'm uber glad you LOVE this I do to, just a bit unsure how I really want it to end because sadly it will have to.

LittleMissDreamer7- Holy flying monkeys! I adore that and I'm still glad you're faithfully reading my stories! NOOOoooooo don't die here's ch10 and I made it especially long for you!


	11. Chapter 11

_I feel that Sherlock would find a way to manipulate every situation to his needs!_

**-‡-****Prince of Hell-****‡-**

**Chapter Eleven**

St. George or Greg Lestrade as he currently liked to be called trudged up the outside steps to his apartment, wearily rubbing his face in the dim lighting. The chilly night air was doing wonders for his flushed skin. He couldn't get the image of the girl out of his mind and his only condolence was that he knew for a fate she was in a better resting place. Donovan had also been acting jittery and jumped every time he tried to talk to her. Greg wrote it off as nerves –the crime scene was disturbing- and dismissed the woman. Anderson, the annoying prat took one look at the victim and almost chuckled, whispering 'happy birthday' under his breath. Sometimes the Celestial found his gifts annoying, like how he couldn't just write off the girl didn't have parents because he'd seen them come and collect her.

The thought of paperwork made Greg's mind wonder to his favorite topic and for just a moment the world felt light and he could keep going on. Mycroft had been his charge since the boy was young and Lestrade felt close to both boys but Mycroft had always been his favorite. He had to bite back a growl and remind himself John had promised to keep his human safe.

His human, Greg blushed but couldn't deny he loved the sound of it.

"Lestrade?" A strangled voice rasped out.

"What?" Greg called out, startled out of his musing and automatically pulling out his gun and aiming for the shadows.

Sherlock Holmes walked out of the darkness, looking like a daemon himself. His skin was deathly pale, eyes wide and lips quivering. Lestrade pocketed his gun in astonishment, he'd only seen the man this shaken up once. Lestrade silently fumbled with his keys in his pockets, trying to open the door. Sherlock let out a breathy laugh and reached over the Detective Inspector and opened the door.

"I picked the lock already." His voice shook.

Lestrade nodded but didn't have the energy, ushering the man into his apartment as he flicked on the lights. Sherlock moved with familiarity and moved to sit on the leather couch. Greg's apartment was like John's room, neat and void of personal artifacts. The connection between the two men tied something in Sherlock mind. The tall man shivered and pulled at his curly locks in frustration.

Greg threw his coat and tie on a kitchen chair as he sat in the only other seat across from Sherlock. "What's wrong?"

"He's dead…I followed-…and he's dead." Sherlock said in a daze. His voice was low and haunting.

Greg rubbed his sweaty palms on his knees. "John's dead?"

The name snapped something in Sherlock who deflated with a low moan of agony. Lestrade would have jumped up and hugged the manic man if he wasn't sure the detective would attack him. You could never tell what Sherlock would allow and not allow. So he remained tensely sitting in the chair across from the man. Lestrade wanted to jump up and demand answers but he had a feeling Sherlock had just discovered John was more than he seemed and his feeble human mind- although greater than most- wasn't handling the knowledge very well.

"Sherlock I know this might be strange for you, but you need to talk to me. What happened?"

The commanding tone of the older man snapped at Sherlock who straightened up imminently his face composed into a straight mask of indifference. "After we left the crime scene John and I went back to the flat. We insinuated a few scenarios before he got a call and dashed out. I followed him on foot the entire way and lost him before I found him again but he was at my brother's house." Lestrade stiffened as his face darkened. "The doors were locked but the window's where wide open. Mycroft was wrything on the floor and then….John…..an orb…and he died."

Lestrade scooted forward his face intense. "What orb?"

Sherlock took in a shuttering breath but his voice remained even. "John reached into his throat and pulled out an orb and then ate it."

"I'll murder that lying bastard." Greg roared as he jumped up and grabbed his short silvery hair in anger. "I should have never trusted that daemon."

"What's going on?"

Lestrade turned and regarded Sherlock, the man he had been watching over for five years now, the same time he realized Athena was following Mycroft. There was something different and something intoxicating about the two Holmes brothers. Something that just drew out the worst and the best in a person. Greg had seen the younger man in many situations. Seen the fear when John was in danger, the lust at the crime scene, the disappointment when they missed a vital clue, the intrigue at a new body but the look of helplessness on the man's face was new and something Greg was positive he _never_ wanted to see again. Of course the detective you be confused, it wasn't every day you learned there were other worldly creatures inhabiting your world. His brother had also just been 'killed' in front of him by a man he had thought was a trusted friend.

Greg gently lowered himself back into his chair and took a deep breath. "I'm sure in that enormous brain of yours you've already figured it out, but I'm going to reaffirm it for you. Daemons and Celestials exist. John is a daemon, a very high ranking one. Until recently he resided in Hell as the Prince of Wrath."

Sherlock's eyes widened a bit but he remained silent, Greg could see the wheels turning in the man's head. "Why did he come up here?"

"He wanted an heir. Prince John doesn't want to rule his domain and would prefer someone else do it for him." The only truth Greg was sure of.

"Anthea and the blonde woman work for him. Anthea came around five years and started working for Mycroft the day that I-." Sherlock turned his gaze towards Greg and tilted his head. "You're one of them."

"No not one of them, but I'm like them. I'm a Celestial."

"You're also a Prince looking for an heir and you choose me." It was a statement.

"Spot on as always." Greg chuckled.

"He lied to me." Sherlock snarled angrily.

"Of everything you just realized, you're angry that he didn't shatter your feeble human reality and expose the supernatural community." Greg commented. "He just ate your brother's soul."

Now in control of the situation and able to look at the situation for a different perspective, Sherlock leaned back and through. John had never seemed human before, it was as if he was too big for his skin and now that made sense, and the lingering intimidation and dark presence he had fit his new profile. A Prince of Wrath, a warrior of Hell but why in the name of science would John want Mycroft, why not him? Wouldn't he make a better daemon then his brother? The idea of Mycroft spending eternity with John, always at his side and in his constant presence made his blood boil. No one but him could have John. John was his friend, his blogger, his caretaker, his love.

His.

"He won't hurt him besides Mycroft got up afterwards."

Sherlock's statement floored Greg, who couldn't stop the stupid grin on his face. Mycroft wasn't dead he was an immortal now. He wouldn't die early. Sherlock caught the elation and as usual couldn't help popping the happy bubble.

"Now he'll be even more annoying and I doubt being the heir to hell he'll give you a second glance unless-…"

Greg couldn't believe Sherlock was taking all this new information so well but he really couldn't understand why he was hanging on a human's every word; however, Sherlock was brilliant and seemed to have a plan up his sleeve. "They don't know I know. Does Mycroft even know about you?"

"I doubt it."

A slow smile spread on Sherlock face as he steepled his fingers under his chin. "Hell hath no fury." Sherlock quoted. "Like a lovers scorn."

"It's woman." Greg corrected, Sherlock shot him a look and he held up his hands.

"I don't appreciate being left in the dark and I'm sure neither do you. I accept your proposal."

"Sherlock I like you and all but you're not-.."

"To be your heir." Sherlock snapped interrupting Greg's awkward attempt to gently let the man down. Greg sighed heavily with relief.

"Let's wage a war against the daemons, our hearts as collateral and theirs as the reward." Sherlock said with a triumphant smile.

Getting Sherlock's meaning Greg mirrored his successors smile. "I like where this is going."

"For this to work, you can't act any differently and I can't truly accept your offer until afterward because I'm sure they'd be able to tell when I become," Sherlock paused his gray-green eyes flickering over to Lestrade. "Like you."

Lestrade huffed. "Being a Celestial is a high honor."

"I'm sure it is. Now that we're on the same page tell me is the crazed manic sending John gifts a daemons too?"

Lestrade blinked wondering how the conversation had gotten turned around so quickly, but used to it after five years of interaction with the brilliant man. There was also no point in lying to his heir- a thought he smiled at- Sherlock was like the younger annoying brother he was glad he never had.

"Watson developed an admirer, one of the other Princes. James Moriarty the Prince of Lust and Greed. I don't remember when it started but the week of John's birthday every year James would leave these 'gifts' for him as a declaration of his love. The sick bastard thought it was romantic." Lestrade ran a hand through his hair. "I'd thought the psychopath wouldn't follow him but I guess that was naive of me."

"Yes it was." Sherlock frowned. "Where they lovers?"

"The rumors said yes but I doubt it, John's too good of a man to sleep with that."

"Perfect." Sherlock purred seductively. The game was on and with more variable and stakes at play he felt invigorated.

This was going to be fun.

Stop a psycho path after John's heart. Win Johns heart. Become a celestial heir and still make his dinner reservations for John's birthday! It couldn't get any better.

Sherlock stood up and glided to the door, pausing before he let himself out and left Greg contemplating in his chair. "If I shoot a Daemon will they die?"

Absent-mindly Greg shook his head. "It just stings but it won't kill us, it'll heal in a day or two."

A wide grin spread across Sherlock's face as he walked out of Greg's apartment with a jump in his step. It could get better, now he could shoot Mycroft and not worry about Mummy getting angry. Oh it was Christmas!

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>

The Mad Squirrel (2x)- Love the username and thanks for reading!

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